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rainbowsky · 22 days ago

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On GG's album, and hints of what was to come

As everyone here likely already knows, I'm completely losing it over the news of a full album from GG. There's a lot more to all of this that I haven't yet discussed, so let's dig into it. I have thoughts...

Disclaimer: Most of what's discussed here is rumor and interpretation, and could be inaccurate. We'll find out what's really happening soon enough!

I never dared dream that GG would put out an album. I have been begging for crumbs of a song for years now, it would have seemed completely outrageous to dare to dream of an entire album!!!

But now that it's on its way, and I've heard more info/rumors about the release (more on that in a bit), I can look back over the past year and see some signs that have been there all along, of what's to come.

More on the release

Promo has already begun, and we now know more about the release schedule based on what's posted on the streaming platforms.

The songs will be released in 3 waves, with the first wave happening on the 12th, the next one on the 19th and the final one on the 26th.

The physical album is going to be coming in December, and there are some tantalizing rumors about what that will include:

The album cover was drawn by GG.

A Xiao Zhan Studio red gift box containing various items including postcards, t-shirts etc.

There will be a CD version and a limited edition vinyl version.

A music video is also rumored to have been completed. This has been confirmed, and will be premiering on the 12th.

Clues we've had all along

What's interesting to me is that for months I've been posting updates about changes to XZ Studio's business license, that have been clues to what GG might be up to.

In January a license was obtained to establish a domestic performance agency.

In March that license was expanded to include services for film production and live performances.

In June there were some legal trademark applications made, pertaining to office supplies, calendars and paper gift wrapping.

And now we know that he's releasing an album, at least some editions which will likely be sold with bonus gifts, paper products and packaging (I think this is a very credible rumor because if he's going the physical album route, it's likely designer GG will want to do special editions like this).

Licenses recently purchased protect the studio's exclusive rights to produce and sell such items.

We also know GG and his studio love to produce stunning high quality videos. Was there ever any doubt that he'd make a music video? Maybe even more than one.

Licenses purchased earlier this year give the studio the right to produce such commercial videos.

And there's another license that is associated with live concert performances! I think it's highly likely we'll see a concert from him in the coming year or two.

Generous GG

As Fat Shrimp mentioned, the songs will be free on streaming. This has made a big impression on some fans, and there has been a lot of discussion about it, and about how much this album will have cost to produce, for GG to give it away for free (here's a compilation of some of the comments via Nili, and another from Estefanita).

People have expressed so many thoughts about this. Everyone agrees that it's almost unheard of to give an entire album for free. One or two songs, maybe, but just as a teaser for the full album - which must be paid for.

A lot of people have talked about the 'old days' (ack, I feel old!) when people would buy physical albums, often after having heard only one or two singles on the radio (although where I'm from people could go into a record store and listen to the full album before buying).

They say that he's opening himself up to that evaluation before people are expected to commit to paying for it, and that it's very generous and honorable, but that it will also open him up to being heard more by passersby who wouldn't otherwise be willing to pay for the music - therefore expanding his possible audience.

I personally think there are a few possible factors contributing to why he chose to share his album for free:

To me, this feels almost like GG's bigger 'debut' as an independent solo singer. He's finally releasing music entirely on his own terms. He wants to share and celebrate that with the world, as a gift to the world and to the fans. "I'm here. Please enjoy."

He's inviting people to listen to his music and judge for themselves whether it's worthy of their investment. It goes along with his personality as someone who wouldn't want people to associate any sort of 'buyer's remorse' with something he's sold them. He's always saying, "people are free to like or to hate," and this is his way of giving people that choice without judgment. "Listen and if you like it, buy it. If you don't, that's fine too." By doing this he's likely to build a bigger audience than by doing a traditional release, because everyone has a chance to hear and evaluate him without any up-front investment.

He wants to avoid any possibility of a repeat of what happened with Spotlight, where he was criticized because fans were buying dozens of copies as a means of boosting sales, and then bragging that their idol was the biggest seller of all time. He doesn't want fans to spend all their money on his songs or on boosting his 'sales', nor does he want any perception that the success of his album was bought by fans.

He could be bargaining on making more overall sales via charging for only the physical copies than by selling both, due to the expanded interest a free release is likely to generate.

He has confidence in what he's created, and is happy to share it openly.

He's doing this out of the joy of it more than anything else, and money isn't a central factor for him.

To me this approach, along with the stated plans for rolling all of this out, feels like a marketing plan, and we all know GG has a professional background in that kind of thing.

Yes, all those other elements of artistry, generosity and magnanimity come into it as well, of course. Marketing is treated as a dirty word, but we must remember that every marketing plan is based deeply in the values and intent of the individual/organization doing the marketing, and is focused on their goals.

I feel that his plan will have considered the factors I mentioned, and will be aligned with his values, intentions and goals.

This is just my take on it, of course. Only GG and his studio really know for sure what his plans and goals are.

Can't wait!!!

Whatever his feelings or plans are, I can't wait to hear this album, I can't wait to buy it, and I can't wait to see what kind if interest and critique it generates!!

I also hope that this is just the beginning - that he will be releasing more music, and hopefully doing concerts in the future.

#xiao zhan #singer gg #wm

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hbyrde36 · 8 months ago

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Chapter 1: Under My Skin

Written for the @strangerthingsreversebigbang

Art (coming soon!) by @glitterfang

Beta'd by @penny00dreadful

Rating: E | WC: 5937 | Chapters: 1/2 | AO3 Link

Not for the first time, Eddie was really regretting his decision to book a client on a Friday night, and a new client at that.

It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do, exactly. There were no dates on his calendar, and going out to random bars and clubs on the weekends to look for quick hookups had begun losing its appeal lately.

But it’d been a long week, and he’d much rather have been getting ready to plop down on the couch with Chrissy to split a bottle of red wine while they watched Drag Race, than preparing to do a cover up for some idiot who’d gotten his girlfriend’s name tattooed on his body, only to fall victim to—The Curse.

Ask any tattoo artist and they’d be the first to tell you, there was no surer way to guarantee a breakup than to ink your significant other’s name on your body forever.

And yeah, it probably wasn’t fair to judge the guy before they’d even met, but there were only two kinds of people who tended to make that particular mistake—dumbasses, and hopeless romantics. He just kind of assumed his client fell into the former camp, rather than the latter.

Eddie had just started wiping down the front desk counter, which doubled as a display case for the various accessories and body jewelry they carried trying to kill some time between his last appointment and cover-up-guy, when Chrissy came walking out of her studio.

It was one of the biggest perks, in his opinion, of owning their own shop. Not only did each of them finally have their own work spaces—no more having to listen to other client conversations or fighting over a single bluetooth speaker—but being their own bosses also meant they could decorate and customize their own studios to their heart’s content.

The main area of the shop was a bit of a catch-all, much like his and Chrissy’s shared apartment. It featured neutral walls lined with a mishmash of all the things they loved, sprinkled in and amongst odd antiques, knick-knacks, and various pieces of unique artwork. There was everything from vintage vinyl record jackets tacked to the wall, to faux taxidermy mountings of creatures that had never existed in real life.

Entering Chrissy’s studio was a little like stepping inside a Lisa Frank notebook cover. All vibrant rainbow colors and aggressive animal print. Eddie had painted the walls himself, color matching the exact shade of fuchsia as the adjustable chair he’d custom ordered just for her. He was no interior designer so she’d taken it from there, and though the finished product was a little too bright for his tastes, even he had to admit it was still pretty fucking metal.

Eddie’s space was the polar opposite, featuring dark stained wood furniture and a style of decor that could be best described as a slightly more grown up version of a teenage boy's bedroom. Band and movie posters lined three of the walls, but instead of being held up with thumbtacks, or scotch tape, they were neatly laid in matching frames with thick black edging. The remaining wall held a gallery of photos. Him and Wayne from their last fishing trip, one from when he and Chrissy had received the keys to the parlor unlocking its doors on the first day that it was theirs, and an old snap of him and his high school bandmates standing in front of their homemade banner, among many others.

It wasn’t until Chrissy came up to lean on the counter with her jacket zipped-up and her purse slung over her shoulder that he realized something was up.

“Don’t forget to lock up when you're done.” She said, tapping her nails on the glass. “Oh! And can you stop and pick up some oat milk on your way home? We’re out.”

“Wait, where are you going? Didn’t you have a client booked tonight too? I thought we were in this together, Cunningham!”

“Not anymore.” She said cheerfully, leaning across the counter to rest her elbows on the glass, leaving an ink smudge on the exact spot he had just finished cleaning. He swatted at her with the damp rag and she jerked back with a giggling-gasp.

“Mine had to cancel.”

Eddie groaned. “I hate when clients do that.”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me. It’s like a free night off I wasn’t expecting.”

“Not exactly free, since canceling means not paying in full.” He grumbled.

“Oh lighten up! It’s not like we’re that behind on bills or anything.”

“Tell that to the electric company.” He said, mostly to tease her, though he couldn't help glancing up at the excessively large and kitschy skull chandelier he’d found on Amazon that definitely didn’t use high efficiency light bulbs, but he had sworn at the time was worth it for The Aesthetic™.

“Why are you always so grumpy?” Chrissy asked, jutting her lip out in a dramatic reenactment of him pouting.

Not that he was one to pout.

“I’m not!”

“Look at your face, you're grumpy right now!”

“That's because y- you’re…” He cut himself off with a sigh.

He couldn't begrudge her the time off, he’d be hightailing it out of there just the same if it had been him.

“Just get out of here.” He said, conceding defeat.

She beamed. “Okay! See you later!” She said, all but sprinting to the front doors. “Don’t forget about the milk!”

“Wait, why can’t you–” He started to ask, but she was on the other side of the door before he could get the words out.

“Oh forget it.” He mumbled, stashing the glass cleaner away where it belonged.

About fifteen minutes later the bell above the door chimed, signaling the arrival of what Eddie assumed to be his last customer of the day.

Except, it couldn't be.

It couldn’t possibly be because the Adonis that had just entered his humble tattoo parlor was, quite frankly, bonkers hot. There was no way, absolutely no way someone had this guy—this guy—so obsessed with them that he went and got their name tattooed on his perfect body and then just… let him go.

It was unthinkable.

“Hi, you must be Eddie. I recognized you from your Instagram.” Pretty-boy said with a shy smile.

“Steve?” Eddie asked, blinking hard, completely unable to mask the tone of disbelief.

The other man nodded.

Shit, okay.

So this was him—Steeeeeeve Harrington. This was the guy.

Maybe there was something wrong with him? There had to be a catch, a series of very red flags or something because all Eddie could think about at that moment was, if he ever got a chance with Steve? He’d never let him go.

Get it together, Munson!

The bright side, of a sort, was that Steve smacked of straight guy energy, so it was unlikely Eddie would even be in the running for a chance anyway. Better to just put it out of his mind.

Though, he supposed he could still… look. It's not like looking ever hurt anyone. Not that he made a habit out of ogling the clientele. Of course, none of his other customers had ever come in wearing vintage Levi’s that fit their ass like a glove, not to mention the way they fit around his–

“Eddie?”

Fuck.

Had Steve been talking this whole time while he’d been off daydreaming about what those sinfully tight jeans might look like on his bedroom floor?

“Yeah.” A soft chuckle fell from Eddie’s lips as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “S- sorry, man. Spaced out for a second there I guess.”

What the fuck was wrong with him today?!

“It’s okay. I was just asking if the plan was still the same? In your last email you suggested we should do this over two appointments.”

Work question… yes, good. Focus on the job!

“Right. With what we talked about I'd like to concentrate on just the outline today, maybe a little shading, and then in six weeks or so once that’s healed have you come back for the color. If you’re still alright with that?”

Eddie could do the whole thing in one shot if Steve really wanted to sit that long, but with something like this he didn't want to feel rushed. He’d done a few concept sketches after emailing back and forth with Steve about what he was looking for, and honestly what they’d come up with wasn’t really his usual style. He could do it, he was more than capable, but he had to wonder why Steve had picked him, out of all the tattoo artists in the city. He’d seen Eddie’s Instagram, so he knew the kind of work he usually churned out. Hell, Chrissy would have been the more obvious choice for this.

Of course, now that he’d gotten an eye-full of Steve in person he was glad he hadn’t tried to pawn him off on her. He was also really hoping Steve would agree to the split sessions, it would give them an excuse to see each other again.

“Whatever you think is best. I’m putting myself in your expert hands.” Steve said, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks.

That was… interesting.

Maybe Eddie had been a little bit hasty in his initial straight assessment?

Steve’s deposit had been paid, and they’d already gone over pricing through email so there wasn't much to discuss as far as that was concerned, After signing some paperwork and getting the other man’s ID scanned into the system there was nothing left to do but walk Steve back to his studio and get this show on the road.

“You can go ahead and take your shirt off, get comfortable. I’ll show you the stencil I drew up and if it looks good we can put it on and get started.” Eddie said, gesturing to his client chair.

He leaned over his desk while Steve got situated, taking a second to gather his thoughts, as well as add a small finishing touch to the transfer sketch before turning back to his client. The sight made his throat go dry.

It shouldn’t have been as hot as it was.

At Eddie's direction, in preparation, Steve had shaved his chest. More specifically, Steve had shaved half of his chest. The side Eddie would be working on, that sported the existing tattoo, was bare—smooth as a baby's bottom. The other side was…

It was…

Jesus Christ.

It should have looked ridiculous actually, and it was a little funny, but honestly all Eddie could think when he stared at the untrimmed side of Steve's upper body, resplendent with the most glorious chest hair, was that it was a travesty, a crime even, that he’d never get to see the whole thing grown out in its full glory.

The lack of a shirt also highlighted the fact that Steve was incredibly toned, much more so than he had initially appeared even through his slim fit henley.

Eddie shook his head, praying it had suddenly become an etch-a-sketch and he could clear out his thoughts by sheer force.

He truly didn’t know what had gotten into him. It was hardly the first time he’d worked on someone he found attractive, but usually he didn’t notice it quite this much. When you pierce and tattoo for a living you get used to seeing a lot of bare skin, including occasionally, areas typically reserved for romantic partners. Professional hazzard, but it’d never been a problem for him before. He was an artist, this was his craft, and bare skin was just another kind of canvas.

He blamed it on his current dry spell, self-imposed as it was.

It was easy enough to go out on a Saturday and find a guy or girl to bring home for the night, but he was so tired of one night stands and meaningless hookups in bar bathrooms. Where was the substance? He wanted companionship. He wanted a partner. He wanted to fall in love.

Eddie cleared his throat and crossed the room to hand Steve the stencil, busying himself with raising up his stool to the proper height and pulling on a pair of thick black neoprene gloves while the other man looked it over.

“It’s great.” Steve said.

“Good.” Eddie quietly let out the breath he’d been holding. “Alright I'm gonna put this on and have you take a look at the placement, make sure you like it, then we can get started.”

Eddie squeezed out a dime sized amount of the stencil gel and rubbed it into Steve’s chest, laying the transfer paper down in just the right way so that the final design would sufficiently cover what was underneath, assuming he had scaled it right.

It was perfect. After a quick check in the mirror, Steve agreed.

While they waited for it to dry Eddie double checked his set up to make sure he had everything he would need for the session.

“Ready to get started?”

Steve took a deep breath and blew it out slow. “Yeah. I am.”

His reply felt heavy, like maybe he was talking about more than just the tattoo. Had they known each other at all Eddie might have asked about it, but they were basically strangers, and it wasn’t his job to pry.

With steady hands he set the needle to Steve's skin and got to work.

They weren’t at it for very long before Steve started to squirm.

Eddie ignored it at first, he could tell the guy was trying hard to keep himself still, and he wasn’t really moving enough to actually disturb the work. Sometimes it took a bit for clients to sink into the feeling, to let the pain fade to the background enough that they could relax a little bit or at least be able to keep their body from trying to react to the odd sensation. But then he noticed the light sheen of sweat spreading over Steve's upper body, and would have sworn he could somehow feel the other man’s pulse quickening beneath the hand he had pressed so closely to his heart, even over the vibration of the tattoo machine.

He should probably stop and do a check-in, suggest a breather or some water. It wouldn't be the first time a seemingly tough muscle-bound guy had struggled to sit for him.

He opened his mouth to say something about it, lifting the needle as he took a quick glance up at Steve’s face, but what he saw had the words dying on his tongue. Steve was staring back at him, face flushed, breath coming quick and shallow, bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

That… did not look like a face that was in pain—or rather—it didn’t seem like the pain was unpleasant.

Fuck.

Eddie flicked his gaze quickly back down to his hands, the needle, fighting the urge to look lower.

He shouldn’t.

It wasn’t right.

The professional thing to do would be to ignore the reaction completely.

But Eddie was a weak, weak man.

He looked.

Just a quick peek, less than a half-second that his eyes wandered south, and immediately he regretted it.

Oh fuck, fuck, fuuuck.

Suspicion confirmed. Steve was hard. He was also huge if the unmistakable outline was any indication. Eddie bit his tongue, fighting back the groan that was trying to fight its way out of his throat.

Those jeans should be fucking illegal. The only thing worse would’ve been a pair of gray sweatpants. Now he was the one sweating.

“Sorry.” Steve said, voice strained.

Eddie stilled, lifting the machine away from Steve's chest again before looking back up to meet his eyes.

“For?”

Steve raised an eyebrow, challenging him to continue to pretend he hadn’t noticed.

“It’s fine, really. It… happens. Everyone reacts differently to the pain.”

Steve let out a high pitched and breathy huff of laughter. “It wasn’t like this last time.” He muttered under his breath.

Eddie tried hard not to read into that, not to think about what the difference might be.

“Do you need to take a break?”

“No,” Steve swallowed hard. Eddie watched, momentarily mesmerized by the bob of his adams apple. “But, uh, can we talk or something? To distract me?”

He sounded so vulnerable, and a little embarrassed. It was enough to snap Eddie out of his daze. The last thing he wanted was for the person in his chair to feel uncomfortable. Talking he could do, it was one of his best things.

“Sure, what do you want to talk about?” Eddie asked casually, getting right back into his line work.

“You.” Steve answered quickly, pausing to clear his throat. “Um, I mean, did you always want to be a tattoo artist?”

Eddie chuckled. “Yeah, pretty much. I used to spend all my time, including the time I should have been using to study or do my homework, drawing, sketching, painting, you name it, and it just kinda developed from there. I gave myself my first stick-and-poke when I was about 15. My uncle was pissed. Not about the tattoo exactly, but he was worried I wasn't being safe enough about it—sanitary and stuff. Of course, he wasn’t wrong. So, Wayne took me out the next day and we got a book about it, and he bought me all the right materials. Even let me practice on him when I graduated to a tattoo machine.”

“He sounds like a really great guy.” Steve said.

“Yeah, he is.” Eddie could feel the wistful smile spreading across his own face. “Not just anyone could step in and raise someone else’s kid like that. Just wish I got to see him more. I go back to Indiana to visit him a few times a year, but it’s not the same.”

“I don’t see my family very much either, but we’re not close.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. My parents, they’re–” Steve trailed off as if looking for the right words. “Well, let's just say they're not as supportive of my—life choices, as your uncle was for you.”

“Oh?”

“I, uh, came out to them a while ago… as bisexual? They didn’t take it very well. Said I was just going through some kind of phase or crisis or something. Sorry, this is probably, like, way too much information to share with someone I just met.”

“No. it’s—Okay, maybe to a normal person it might be but I've never been what anyone would describe as normal. And… I get it.”

Eddie didn’t really have to say it. The outside of the shop sported every kind of pride flag you could think of. There were pictures right behind him on the wall of him and Chrissy at their first ever pride parade right here in the city. Not to mention his social media profiles, where he had a bi flag right next to his age and pronouns in his bio. Steve knew, was the point, and Eddie was glad he’d felt safe enough in his shop—with him, to talk about it.

“Wayne was really good about that too.” Eddie said softly. “I’m sorry your parents weren’t.”

A comfortable silence settled between them after that and Eddie left it unbroken, better to let Steve decide which direction their conversation went from here—if he wanted to continue it. He seemed more relaxed already and his… predicament had mercifully gone down as they spoke.

“When did you—how did you… know?“ Steve asked after a while.

“Junior High.” Eddie answered quickly, smiling to himself as he indulged in a little nostalgia. “Kinda the opposite of the usual story, I guess. I thought I was gay. I had such a crush on this boy a grade above me. Nobody that would have given me the time of day mind you, I was a band geek and a huge nerd, but he was very nice to look at. Then he changed schools. I was heartbroken of course, which is my excuse for why I let this girl drag me under the bleachers during gym class. One second we were just sitting there talking and the next she was in my lap with her tongue down my throat.”

“And?”

Eddie shrugged. “And I didn’t hate it. I reacted exactly the way a young boy reacts when a pretty girl is kissing them and grinding in their lap. Honestly, it blew my mind a little bit—had to reevaluate my whole world view.”

Steve hummed in understanding.

“It’s still mostly men for me but–” Eddie sighed wistfully, “Women.”

“Women,” Steve agreed reverently, letting out a soft laugh. “It was a bit more recent for me. A friend took me to a gay bar—dragged me there actually.” He started to shake his head, stopping instantly when he seemed to realize he might be moving too much.

Good boy.

Eddie smirked. “I bet you were popular.”

“You could say that. I’ve never had so many people offer to buy me a drink in my life.” As Steve went on he began to rub his hand along the chair's armrest, mindlessly drawing patterns into its surface with his long fingers.

“It’s funny, at 25 I didn’t think I had anything new to discover about myself, at least nothing big, but after that rather eye-opening evening I had to, like you said, reevaluate some things about myself. It wasn’t a huge shock I guess. Like, I had found guys attractive before—friends, celebrities, whatever, I just thought everyone felt that way.”

“Ah, the bisexual’s fallacy. Sure I think about other dudes sometimes, but only the normal amount.” Eddie said.

“How was I supposed to know it wasn’t!”

Eddie stopped tattooing as they held each other's gaze, both managing to keep a straight face for only a second before simultaneously dissolving into hysterical laughter.

Figuring it was as good a time as any to take a short break, Eddie stripped his gloves off and slid across the room on his stool to a small mini-fridge he kept tucked under his desk, stocked with water and juice—something he always kept on hand in case a client got lightheaded.

As they sipped their drinks and both took an opportunity to stretch, Eddie decided it was finally time to put his foot in his mouth.

“So, how are you enjoying things on this side of the field? Someone as pretty as you, I'm sure you get asked out a lot.”

“No, uh, I don't know. I- I haven't really been out on any dates with guys.” Steve stuttered out nervously. “Kissed a few, but that’s all.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Eddie said. He meant it too. Not only was Steve something special to look at, but he seemed like a nice enough guy. He deserved to be taken out and shown a good time. Maybe he was shy.

Steve laid back in the chair, puffing his chest out as he got back into position while Eddie slipped a new pair of gloves on.

“Why, you offering to show me the ropes?” Steve asked, pointedly raising an eyebrow.

Eddie’s mouth went dry.

Okay, not that shy then. Surely it was just fun friendly flirting though, right?

“Don’t tempt me.” Eddie teased back. Two could play this game.

“Why not?”

“First rule of the trade, or at least the Munson doctrine, no dating the clients.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Steve said, and without even looking up Eddie could hear the smile in his voice, a hint of–challenge accepted–in his tone.

The next hour flew by as they continued to chat, both remarking on the differences between small town life and city life, as well as lamenting how expensive it was, and how neither of them thought they’d still be living with roommates in their mid-to-late-20's.

For a while Eddie waxed poetic about Chrissy, who of course filled the roles of bestie, roommate, and business partner, which tickled Steve to no end.

He told the other man how they’d met, apprenticing at the same tattoo parlor at around the same time. and wound up bonding for life almost immediately. They were total opposites on the surface but deep down they were remarkably similar. Eddie didn’t go into too much detail, as it wasn’t his story to tell, but alluded to the fact that he and Chrissy had the shared experience of being born to shitty parents, only to be raised by another family member. A grandmother in Chrissy’s case.

It meant that they understood each other more than most, and yeah, being around one another 24/7 also meant they got on each other’s nerves a lot, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

At some point Steve’s cell phone began to ring from where it was shoved in his front pocket. He apologized profusely for forgetting to switch it on silent before they’d gotten started, but Eddie assured him it wasn’t a big deal.

Or—it wouldn't have been, except either it was some kind of emergency, or someone who was intent on reaching Steve immediately, and continued trying to call three more times.

“We can take a break if you need to get that.” Eddie offered.

Truth be told he could use a little breather himself. All this time of being essentially face down in Steve’s incredible chest was getting to him a little bit, not to mention the way his forearm lightly brushed along Steve's stomach whenever he braced himself across the man’s body. The feel of their bare skin touching was almost too much, and more than once Eddie felt himself breaking out in goosebumps.

“Yeah, I think we’d better. It’s gotta be my little brother and knowing him he won’t stop calling until I answer.”

Eddie busied himself removing his gloves and taking a long drink from his water bottle while he flipped through a few drawings on his side table, trying to look like he wasn’t hearing every word of Steve's side of the conversation.

“Hey buddy, I'm a little busy right now. What’s going on?”

Steve paused, listening attentively to the voice on the other end of the call.

“Dustin, he’s not abandoning you. Just because he wants–”

Sighing as he was abruptly interrupted, Steve somehow made the huff of breath sound both annoyed and fond.

“Well, did he actually say he didn’t want to play D&D with you anymore?”

Eddie’s head snapped up of its own volition. Did the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen in real life just say D&D?

“That’s what I thought.” Steve said with a satisfied tone. “It's gonna be fine. I’ll come see you tomorrow, okay? Tell your mom I said hi.”

“Sorry about that.” Steve said, addressing Eddie this time, rolling his eyes as he ended the call. “Teenagers.”

“Pretty cool little brother if he plays Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Oh no.” Steve groaned. “Not you too! He and all his little friends are obsessed with it.”

“I used to play all the time with a group back in high school. We still try and get together for a one-shot at the holidays when we’re all back home visiting.” Eddie paused, concentrating for a second on wiggling his fingers into yet another set of gloves. There wasn’t really all that much left to do, another 20 minutes or so and he’d be done with the outline. “Was he alright, your brother?”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine.” Steve replied as he sat back, getting into position. “We, uh, technically we’re not actually related—I'm an only child. But I used to babysit Dustin when he was younger and when he grew up I just sorta stuck around. It’s only him and his mom at home and I guess I thought… I dunno, like, maybe I could help? I drove him to his first school dance, taught him how to do his hair, shave, that kinda stuff.”

“That's… that’s really sweet, man. I’m sure he appreciates having you around.”

With every new thing he learned about Steve, Eddie felt like he was in deeper and deeper trouble. He’d been having a tough enough time keeping it together with simply lusting over a hot body, but now Steve was turning out to be this sweetheart of a guy and, client or not, Eddie thought he might just be worth breaking all the rules for.

“He’s worried his friend group is falling apart because one of the guys is going out for the basketball team. He’s afraid if Lucas gets in good with the jocks he won’t want to play with them anymore.”

“As a former outcast and enemy to jocks everywhere, I can understand his concern.”

“Are you saying we wouldn't have been friends in high school then?”

“Steve, Stevie, please. Please don’t tell me…” Eddie trailed off, stopping what he was doing and gasping for dramatic effect–hand over his heart. “Oh god, you were captain of the sportsball team weren’t you?”

Steve giggled, his beautiful eyes sparkling with it. “Basketball, to be exact. I was the co-captain of the swim team too.”

“I knew it would never work between us.” Eddie tutted, shaking his head as he got back to tattooing. “Are you reformed, at least?”

“Once a jock, always a jock, I'm afraid. I’m a personal trainer now.”

It explained a lot, and the perks—pun absolutely intended—of Steve's day job were undeniable, but as hot as the mental image of him pumping iron was, the idea of Steve palling around with toxic gym bros all day was almost enough to have Eddie second guessing everything.

“Don’t worry though, I don’t like gym bros any more than the next guy.” Steve said conspiratorially. “My clients are mainly older women looking to maintain their strength and mobility as they age.”

Aaaaand Eddie stood corrected. “Lucky ladies.”

Jesus Christ, could this guy get any more perfect?

Steve shifted in his seat, starting to get antsy after keeeping still for so long.

“Just a few more minutes, almost done.” Eddie murmured, tongue between his teeth as he concentrated on a spot near the curve of Steve’s collarbone.

“Do you do a lot of these? Cover-ups I mean?” Steve asked. “My roommate is the one who actually suggested it. For some reason I just never thought about it as an option.”

“I don’t know if i’d say a lot, but a fair few, yeah.”

“You, um. You can ask about it… If you want.”

Eddie glanced up in surprise. He would never have brought it up without being prompted, it just didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t deny he was curious, and if Steve was okay with it then–

“Okay, I'll bite. Who’s Nancy?”

“My fiance’. Well, ex-fiance’ now. We broke things off a little over a year ago.”

“That’s rough, I'm sorry.”

“It’s okay. Honestly, It’s… I should have probably seen it coming? We were high school sweethearts—got together before we really knew who we were on our own. But I was dumb and in love. I got the tattoo and proposed. I was so happy that day, but looking back it was so obvious that she’d only said yes out of pity or guilt, not because she really wanted to spend the rest of her life with me.”

The part of Eddie that believed in true love—and all that cheesy shit—was sad that a couple who had been together for so long, who had essentially grown up together, hadn’t been able to make it work. Selfishly though, a small piece of him was happy to learn that they’d been broken up for quite some time, lessening the chance that, if he did somehow gather the courage to ask Steve out when the tattoo was done, he wouldn’t be on the rebound.

“It was tough. I felt like a failure for a long time, like I was having to start my whole life over from scratch when I'd thought for so long that she was it for me, but it's actually been… good. We weren’t right for eachother, I can see that now. As much as it hurt, I'm grateful she had the courage to break things off when she did.”

“I’m glad you’ve been able to come to peace with it.”

“Getting this tattoo feels like the final step into letting that life go, y’know?”

Eddie nodded. Steve’s demeanor before they got started made so much sense now.

“Is there some significance to the design?” He asked, making his final line and setting the machine down. He wiped at the excess ink on Steve's skin, raising his head just in time to see the way the other man’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah, Robin. She–she’s everything to me. Like a best friend, but more somehow. I don’t think I really knew what unconditional love was before her. She’s like, another piece of my soul or something. I don’t know what I would do without her.”

Eddie froze.

The tattoo design was a bird—a robin.

A robin.

For, Robin.

How could he have been so stupid!

Of course, Steve was getting one girl’s name covered up with something to represent the new one.

Jesus Christ, they were both idiots.

Eddie for getting his hopes up, and Steve for making the same mistake—twice. At least this time it was a symbol and not a name, so if he and the latest potential Mrs. Harrington didn’t work out, at least he wouldn't have to worry about covering it up.

“Everything alright?” Steve asked.

The question spurred Eddie back into action. He spread the foam soap over Steve’s chest continuing to clean the finished tattoo while his heart crawled up into his throat.

“Yup. All good.” Eddie forced the words out.

That's what Steve must have meant about not going on dates, he already had someone at home. Why hadn’t he just said that before though? And why had he flirted with him?

Maybe he’d felt funny at first about admitting to being with a woman after all the talk about being bisexual. Not that Eddie would have judged, but he knew a lot of people did—bi erasure was so real. He understood that, but it didn’t make it hurt any less that Steve had, inadvertently or not, lead him on.

Eddie gently patted the newly cleaned skin dry with a paper towel and carefully applied a square of Saniderm over the area, smoothing it out as he gave Steve his usual spiel, albeit a little robotically, about how to care for the tattoo over the coming days and weeks.

He quickly turned his back when he was done, telling Steve he could get dressed, and feeling stupid as all hell for being this upset about a guy he barely knew. He’d felt something though, potential—a spark. It was more than he’d felt for anyone in a long time.

Steve got quiet, looking a little confused with the sudden 180° Eddie’s mood had pulled. He felt a little bad about that as he brought the guy back out to the counter, but it wasn’t as though he’d suddenly become unprofessional. He was just… no longer being overly friendly.

After confirming the date for his second session, Steve paid his balance and Eddie walked him to the door.

“Have a good night, Steve. Call the shop if you have any concerns or questions about aftercare.”

Steve bit his lip. “Oh, I… okay. See you in six weeks then.”

Eddie forced a smile, waiting until Steve was out of sight around the corner to lock up, and slunk back to his studio to disinfect it so he could finally go home and sulk.

Chapter 2

All my thanks to @penny00dreadful for all of your wonderful beta work, and cheerleading, and support, and just generally being THE BEST 💜

#steddie fanfic #stranger things reverse big bang #steddie #tattoo artist eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #tattoo artist chrissy cunningham

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imaginal-ai · 7 months ago

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"Fashion Icon" (0001)

(The New Iconography Series)

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monst · 1 month ago

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Where are those Bruce Wayne hcs 🤨

Oops my b forgot to post them lmao

Bruce Wayne General Hc’s

Kinda random, Kinda angsty,

700 wds

I don’t know where I cooked this up but a big Indiana Jones fan. And sue him he loves “Raiders of the Lost Ark”. He also enjoys rewatching “The Mummy”, “Alien”, “Jumanji” and “Jurassic Park”. Adventure movies are his favorite. Science fiction movies are also right up his alley.

His most prized possession is his parent's old vinyl records. He remembers learning how to dance atop Alfred’s feet as his parents danced next to them, they’d swap partners after each song. His mother's laughter as one of her favorites played “Tom this is the song we met too!” Thomas telling Bruce all about how “you should sweep your partner off your feet. After all, it worked for me~” After their passing, Alfred had made an offhanded comment “They were the worst dancers on the floor that night. But they were so happy.” He hadn’t had the heart to play them or part with them. Also, no one play “Angel of the Morning” Near him too many memories of his mom belting the lyrics in the morning.

Baths. Bruce Wayne is a bath whore and few people know this. Background music, incense, bubbles, candles, wine, body scrubs, and some Epsom salt for his sore muscles. He rarely gets the chance to take them since he’s usually busy but he’s always looking at his calendar to see if he can squeeze one in. Lotions up after, and ends up sleeping like a rock. Those who don’t know this about him think that the bath bombs he gets gifted him are gag gifts.

Obligatory sock mention. Very plain sock wearer they’re either navy, white, or black. They also end up bunched up at the legs of the bed. The pets in the manor love it when his door is open because the socks accumulate and the pile gets divvied up between the two dogs and cat. He’s not very happy when he has to buy new ones either because he can’t find them or because he can’t use them.

That being said he carries a lint roller. At all times. Has to use it frequently and since Damian doesn’t care about having his shirt look patterned he ends up going through two rollers per week. Three, if the Waynes™ need to show up.

He has a sweet tooth. It’s not that he hides it, it’s more of a ‘They ate all the cookies’ so he can’t have any. It’s fine since they’re usually the typical sugar or chocolate chip cookies good but not his favorite. His favorite cookies are Oreshki’s and he doesn’t play about them. No one knows he likes them because this man will never share them.

It’s not that he can’t cook. It’s more that he’s very utilitarian about it. He’s more worried about hitting his macros than he is about whether the chicken even has salt. Doesn’t have to be edible just has to fuel him. It’s not something he favors which is why he doesn’t usually cook but if not grabbing the species saves him time well your eating the most tasteless of foods. It’s not that he can’t make it taste good it’s that he doesn’t bother. Besides he can barely taste it if his attention is wrapped up in another case so no big right?

Suffers from Google translateitis. Especially in high-stress/traumatic situations. Meaning, that brain-to-mouth filter sometimes gets run through Google Translate, and what the heck Bruce why would you say that?! Or How could you say that?! Look now you're drawing conclusions and putting words in his mouth. He was getting to it, he had to get out the negative before the positive. His brain just sorts things a bit differently, let him gather his thoughts and re-word them. And on no, they left. Story of his life and a symptom for all who suffer from Google translateitis.

Was on Shark Tank once but his deal was so generous that they didn’t want to invite him back. “We’re supposed to take a shark deal Mr. Wayne and you just gave him a handout.” However, after the episode aired and it did numbers on tv&social media the network was blowing up his phone. So every once in a while Brucie Wayne is throwing around money in the Tank.

#I’ve been watching Shark Tank while I work and a Dc shark tank has me in stitches can you image?! Lex could def be mr. wonderful lmao #bruce wayne headcanon #batman headcanon #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #Might add to this tbh Love Bruce <3 #uh random bullshit go!

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pnsteblnme · 1 year ago

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tattoos together ✿ g.s.

pairing: georgia stanway x reader

summary: georgia gets her first tattoo, even if it doesn't go according to her plan.

warning: none i think? just my writing :o

word count: 2.7k

a/n: i got this request a couple days ago, i hope you enjoy it!

you can find part two here :)

“Welcome in, how can I…,” removing your gaze from the sketch you were about to put away, your eyes connected with pools of glistening honey, irises swirling like sweet nectar. Feeling yourself drowning in the warm haze of brown, your breath getting caught in your throat and your mouth opening, you shook yourself out of your daze, “…help you.”

Flinching after your last words came out embarrassingly breathless, you sent an awkward smile that turned into a real one when the blonde girl looked at you with nothing but kindness, “Hey, I had an appointment for today.”

You scanned the calendar on the desk in front of you, “Georgia, right?”

Nodding her head, said girl let her eyes travel over your form as you stood up. She couldn’t help but study the intricate tattoos that adorned your arms, wanting to trace them and longing to discover their meanings. The initial apprehension about getting her first tattoo diminished as she admired yours, thinking that if yours looked this immaculate, she wouldn’t have to worry.

Another thing that calmed her uneasiness was not only the very attractive welcoming artist but also the atmosphere of the room.

Unlike many other tattoo shops with a rather gloomy and dark-esque appearance, this one felt like reconnecting with an old friend.

The soft scratching of Cindy Lauper’s ‘Time After Time’ coming from the boxes next to a vinyl collection in the left corner filled her ears. Sunbeams bestowed the room with a glow as orange as marigolds blooming in the late spring and the candles lit on the windowsill filled the air with a vanilla scent.

White walls were decked with hundreds of sketches varying in size and drawing style, most in black and white with a few colourful specks in between.

The wooden front desk harmonised perfectly with the brown leather seat to the left of the room, as well as the stems of the numerous plants that were scattered all around.

Comfort.

That was the only word that came to Georgia’s mind when she finished looking around, feeling the knot in her gut loosen and her stiff shoulders relax.

“What can I do for you?”

Pools of honey meeting the ocean, the blonde girl smiled, “I want to get a tattoo!”

“Well, then you’re at the right place,” you chuckled teasingly, the corners of your mouth turning up.

Seeing Georgia rolling her eyes, you continued, “Do you have an idea of what you want, or would you like some inspiration?”

“I think I know what I want,” thoughts running through her mind at a hundred miles per hour making her unsure once more.

Watching the woman twiddle the rings on her fingers, you send her an encouraging smile, “Okey dokey, if you’d take a seat in that chair over there, I’ll get my stuff and we can get started.”

Georgia shuffled to the left with her hands slightly shaking, not knowing if the cause of that were the gleaming smiles sent her way or rather the fact that she was about to permanently mark her skin.

“So, what would you like me to do?” you questioned as you rolled towards her with your chair, putting on your gloves and setting up everything you needed on the tray next to the woman.

Taking out her phone, tapping a few times and turning the screen in your direction, she replied, “Could you do this one?”

On her phone screen, you could see a small, delicate ghost, your mind instantly jumping to all the customers that had gotten two of them tattooed as a tribute to their favourite song.

“Of course, where do you want it?”

“Here,” she pointed to a spot on her left forearm.

Nodding your head, you quickly but neatly drew the ghost onto a white paper, before asking her if the drawing was according to her idea. When you got a positive response, you put the carbon paper under your sketch and went over the lines again, the ink sticking to the back of your drawing.

You swiftly put antiseptic on her arm and hovered the paper over her skin, “Right here?” She wordlessly moved her head up and down once more and you gently pressed it down before removing it after a few seconds, leaving behind the temporary ink in the form of a ghost.

“Okay, are you ready?”

Georgia could hear her heartbeat in her ears, a lump forming in her throat, that she almost audibly gulped down, a breathless exhale escaped her mouth, “I think so, yeah.”

After turning on the needle and noticing her jump a little at the buzzing that sizzled through the air, you tried to comfort her the best you could, with the most reassuring look you could muster.

When you neared her arm though and she started squirming in her seat, you pulled back and reached for her hand resting on the chair, which was holding the brown leather in a tight grip, her knuckles turning white, “Is everything all right?”

Both of you ignoring the tingles that shot through your bodies when your hands touched, a shaky sigh left Georgia’s lips, “I’m just nervous, this is my first time getting a tattoo and I just don’t know how any of this works or if this hurts and I don’t want to do something I’ll regret,” she let out in one big breath.

“There’s no need to worry, you can go home and see what it’s like with the tattoo and when it comes off and you decide that you don’t want it, that’s totally fine,” you told her with warm eyes, “and if you do like it, that’s fine too, you can come back and we can do it whenever you want, whenever you’re ready.”

Feeling like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders after your words, Georgia’s mind slowed down a bit, allowing her to gather her thoughts, “But I don’t want to be a wuss now and regret it as soon as I get home.”

Not being able to stop the words tumbling out of her mouth, the blonde shared her inner conflict, “Like on the one side I really want this but on the other, I’m afraid it’s not the right thing, you know?”

Letting the statement run through the air for a moment, your eyes ran over her face, “Can I say something?”

“Sure, go on,” Georgia confirmed, her hands starting to twist her rings again.

“I think that it’s better to look back on your life and say ‘I can’t believe I did that’ than to look back and say ‘I wish I did that,” you explained before taking a deep breath, trying to find the right words to express your thoughts, “Life shouldn’t be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely, but one that should be lived to the fullest, even if it means being worn out in the end. One where you embrace every moment, take risks, I don’t know, dance in the rain with your favourite people, even if you get weird looks from everyone else.”

After not getting a response from the blonde after a few beats, you realised that maybe your words didn’t make as much sense as they did in your head and continued, “What I’m trying to say is that twenty years from now, you’ll be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the things you did do. I can’t tell you what you should or shouldn’t do, but I know that life isn’t meant to be lived perfectly, it’s merely meant to be lived. Boldly, uncertainly, imperfectly, kindly, however you want to, just don’t let fear take that choice away from you.”

Somehow, the words that had left your lips with the sunlight sparkling in your eyes and a passion coating your voice drew the blonde further into the spell you had mysteriously put on her, leaving her speechless, until you let out an awkward chuckle, hand scratching the back of your neck, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to give this big ass monologue.”

Feeling a laugh bubbling up inside of her and forgetting her rapid heartbeat for a moment, she shook her head, “No, no, don’t apologise, I mean, you did kind of sound like my Nan, but it was still great.”

When she heard the melodious sound of your laughter, she knew she was a goner, butterflies dancing around her stomach and warmth crawling its way through her whole body.

You took the missing statement about her tattoo as her still being uncertain, “We can start with something smaller if you’re not sure about the ghost.”

Still being faced with an apprehensive look, you took off your left glove, quickly spraying a bit of antiseptic onto the inside of your wrist, before turning the needle on and guiding it over your skin, “Look, it doesn’t even hurt.”

Brown eyes widened, rosy lips parted, a flabbergasted look crossed her face, “Jesus Christ, what did you do?!”

Wiping over the ink once more, you turned your wrist towards her, a cheeky smile resting on your lips that resembled the one of the smiley face you now had resting on your left arm, “Tada!”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you just did that,” the shock was still palpable in her voice, “Won’t you regret that though?”

You put away the needle and turned to face the girl on the brown chair, shaking your head, “I almost never regret anything, because I believe that every little detail of your life is what made you into who you are.”

“Deep down you’re actually a wise old man, aren’t you?” questioned Georgia with a raised eyebrow, your laughter filling the room once more.

“Maybe so,“ you shrugged your shoulders, “but back to you and don’t try to change the subject!”

“I can give you one of these little dudes if you want?” pointing to the ink that you’d just put on your arm.

“It’s not very big, so you can see what it feels like and we’d be matching, so you’ll always remember the wise old man that gave you your first tattoo.”

This time, the chuckles that rang through the room came from the blonde, “Okay, yeah, let’s do it.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do, like I said, you can always go home.”

With affirmation in her voice, Georgia declared, “I’m sure!”

“Great, let’s do this,” you put your glove back on, disinfected her left wrist and grabbed the needle from the tray, before turning it on.

When you felt her right hand gripping your left one with a tight grip, you squeezed it, hoping to at least bring her some comfort as you began the procedure.

After tracing the last line, you wiped away the residue and turned everything off before raising your head to meet the pools of honey watching your every move, “See, it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

If the way the corners of Georgia’s lips turned upwards was anything to go by, you had your answer, feeling elated about her reaction, even without getting an answer from the girl.

Not noticing that you were waiting for a response, she gazed at the tiny smiley face resting on the inside of her left wrist, that would forever remind her of this day. Suddenly, she felt at ease, something that hadn’t even crossed her mind when she initially thought about getting her first tattoo. She couldn’t explain it, but something about the way you listened to her and tried to support her through this process, overall your gentle nature, made her feel like she was walking on fluffy pink clouds.

“Thank you so much,” Georgia breathed out with a heavy voice.

“No problem! If I ever see you again, I hope it's with more of those, I think it’d suit you very well.”

Lowering her head, praying to god that you couldn’t see the heat that rushed to her cheeks, she mumbled a shy ‘thanks’ before asking you how much she had to pay.

Your answer only intensified the red hue of her face, “Don’t worry about it, I like contributing to the gay panic everyone will have when they see you with tattoos.”

Stammering a final ‘thank you’ and sending you what should’ve been a thankful look but turned out to be more of a blushing grimace, she made her way to the door.

When she tried to push the door though, the flustered mess that was Georgia realised too late that she should’ve pulled on it instead, her head connecting with the glass with a dull thud.

The sound of stifled giggles filled her ears as you held your hand in front of your mouth, trying to stop them from escaping. You couldn’t help but think that this was one of the most adorable things you’ve ever witnessed. The blonde turned to you, face beet red, slender fingers raising in an awkward wave as she hastily opened the door, almost tripping on her way out before half sprinting out of your eyesight.

Two days later, your mood instantly brightened when you saw who had stepped into your store.

“Back for some more wisdom from the old man?” you jested, a playful smirk resting on your face.

Georgia playfully put a hand on her chest and let out a big sigh, “I just don’t know what to do with my life without your wise words.”

Dropping her faux sad demeanour, she walked towards the front desk, where you were drawing something she couldn’t make out, “Well lucky for you, I just discovered my new favourite quote!”

You cleared your throat as if preparing for a big speech and started as serious as you could, “‘They whispered to her ’you can’t withstand the storm’,” pausing dramatically for a few seconds, “‘She whispered back ’I am the storm’.”

“Wow, I don’t… I don’t know what to say, I’m just- I mean that’s so inspiring,” stuttered Georgia, wiping away a fake tear with her hand.

Dropping her sad demeanour, she sent you a grin, “I’m ready for the ghost now!”

“Seriously? That’s amazing!” you exclaimed, clapping your hands together and rocking on the balls of your feet.

Walking her over to the leather chair, the conversation between you flowed easily, like a message in a bottle slowly but surely reaching its designated shore, making it feel like no time had passed when you finished the tattoo.

This time, Georgia left the store with a ghost adorning her left arm and an even wider smile on her face, as she was able to avoid embarrassment during her departure.

“I mean, not that I’m complaining, but you know that you can get multiple tattoos done in one day, right?” you questioned her, raising your eyebrow teasingly.

Seeing her head dropping and the way she started rocking on her feet while twiddling the rings on her fingers, you felt your stomach drop, thinking that you had said something wrong.

Before you could open your mouth to apologise, you were interrupted by Georgia muttering something under her breath. You strained your ears to make out the words but failed miserably.

“Sorry, could you repeat that?”

The girl let out a nervous sigh and muttered again, “I know, but I still need to figure out how to get a grip and ask you out.”

Butterflies danced around in your stomach, making you grin like a fool, “Well then make as many appointments as you need,” you sent a wink her way.

That day she left with a game of noughts and crosses on her shoulder and a newfound determination to ask you out. Her walk home was filled with a million thoughts running through her head, asking the street lights if it would work out in the end.

The next day she showed up at your store with a bouquet of beautifully blooming flowers in her hand, sweating buckets, hoping you couldn’t tell just how nervous she was.

Your cheeks hurt from not being able to stop grinning like a cheshire cat, as you excitedly accepted her offer.

If anyone were to walk through the door, they would be met with two hearts rapidly beating and two smiles lighting up the entire room.

#woso #woso x reader #georgia stanway #georgia stanway x reader #woso fanfics #engwnt #fcb frauen

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winterchimez · 1 year ago

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Nonsense | Jacob Bae

SUMMARY: never would you have thought that joining the music club is where you would develop an abnormal crush on your senior/club president Jacob Bae. so when the university's annual school performance is around the corner, you have decided to give a shot to confess your feelings in the most extravagant way possible.

PAIRING: senior!Jacob x junior g.n!reader

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: pg-13, kissing, yall this is just pure tooth-rotting fluff

WORD COUNT: 4,473

A/N: we're back with another fic for the emails i can't send fwd: collab that i'm doing with @heemingyu 😉 shoutout to both sana & @sungbeam for beta reading & helping me out with this one!! love you both loads 💕 also, lowkey this was written for you @zzoguri aka cobster's future, i hope you'll enjoy this (and may this somehow be a little something for you during your hectic times ily my moni forever!! ❤️)

It was finally the summer holidays, and you were ecstatic as you heard the sound of a vehicle driving right onto your front porch. You had been waiting for this moment since you got the news during the new year and counting down the days on your calendar without fail every day.

Once you heard the engine stop, you immediately ran out to the door to jump right into the person’s arms which were already opened wide, fully expecting your demeanour.

“Yujin! I’ve been waiting months for you!” You shrieked as you hugged your cousin tight, rubbing your cheek against hers.

Both you and Yujin were raised together by your grandmother back in Vancouver, and things took a turn when your parents eventually got a promotion up in Toronto, causing you to move far away from your family. Because of that, you don’t get to see each other often anymore, the most being once every 2 years when your parents will try their best to make time to attend the Christmas parties held annually at your grandmother’s house.

Yujin was like your long-lost sibling; even though you were cousins, you both felt there was more to that. Ever since you both have gotten your very own mobile phones, you both promised that you would FaceTime each other almost every other day. You knew everything about one another—from each other’s darkest secrets to how much money you stole from your parents' wallets when you were younger to buy that vinyl you have been eyeing for the longest time.

But lately, things have been a bit too chaotic for you both to keep up the promised ritual. Since you both started university, it was hard to make plans, especially when studying in different courses, which also meant different timetables and classes. During the weekends, the both of you would often be occupied with either school events or at your local pizzeria as your part-time job. Hence, texting was the primary source of communication between you two.

And besides that, something crucial had happened to you lately, and you couldn’t wait to spill the beans to your cousin.

Once you had helped Yujin unload her stuff from the car and moved it up to your room, you quickly made yourselves feel comfortable by cuddling together on your sofa bed.

“So, tell me. How has life been for you?” you asked, blinking your eyes, trying to give her a pleading face because you wanted to know about everything that had happened lately.

“I’ve been promoted to being part of the student council at my university! Oh, and then there’s also me actually acing an exam that I clearly did not study for because I was up all night that past few weeks playing Genshin Impact. Oh, and then there was this adorable guy from my campus who I think kind of has a crush on me because he always glances in my direction, like you know? That stare? And then—”

“Woah woah, slow down, tiger,” you had to pause your cousin because clearly, she was dumping all of the information without giving you time to process them individually. With that, the both of you chuckled, hands placed onto your stomach as you began to laugh a little bit too hard until it started to hurt.

This was what you had missed so dearly, and you couldn’t help but put on this genuine warm, soft smile on your face as you looked into Yujin’s eyes.

That was until she squinted at you.

“Whatever you’re doing right now is creeping me out real bad, so I suggest you stop that.”

You slapped her arm. “Rude.”

“Fine. What about you then? I’m sure your time at the University of Toronto has been a wild ride for you.”

“About that…I have something I need to consult you for,” you lowered your head and voice to a minimum, which got your cousin's ears perked up and was prodding your arms, wanting to know the details.

“Oh my god, did you just finally have your first kiss?”

“W-what? No! I mean, at least not yet….”

“What do you mean not yet? So do you have a special someone in your life right now?”

With a deep sigh, you took one of the pillows lying on the floor and threw it in Yujin’s direction, causing her to hug the pillow tight as she laid her head down gently to rest on it.

“Buckle up, babe. It’s going to be a long story.”

Flashback

“God, why do I have to sign up for this?”

You stomped your feet to the ground as you looked at the paper, which read: “Applications for extra-curricular activities such as clubs are mandatory for all students, commencing on April 2023.”

Your university had been pretty lenient over the years, and they had never once forced students to participate in clubs if they chose not to, understanding that some of them had make-up classes for their courses or were just busy with their thesis and side jobs. Most of the students in the university themselves took on part-time jobs, such as working in the school’s cafeteria and library, to earn a little bit of pocket money to survive.

So, when they decided to change the rules after the previous headmaster resigned and was replaced by a new one that everyone did not like, she chose that both coursework and extracurricular activities played a crucial role in one’s graduation.

Left with no choice, you stood before the bulletin board, trying to find a club that suited your taste.

“Screw Mrs. Kim.” You huffed.

“Look, Y/N. It can’t be too bad. It’s just a club. After all, nobody said you have to be super committed to it,” Your friend Keeho sighed, looking at how you beat yourself up over such trivial matters.

“You don’t understand, Keeho. This means I will have less time at home because I will have to leave to work my shifts at the pizzeria right after clubs. What is going to happen to my games and k-dramas?” You whined.

“If you want to graduate from university, you’re going to have to choose one now.” Knocking some sense into you, he gave you a pat on your shoulder before walking away towards the opposite direction, heading to his club.

You turned to look back at the bulletin board once again, scanning through all of the posters and flyers that were scattered throughout. After a minute or two, your eyes finally landed on this one cream-coloured flyer, and you sighed before checking the location once more before heading to your destination.

“This is the only option that will work for now.”

“Hello?” You called out, but the room was empty as you opened and peeked your head through the door. Thinking that you should try again, you entered the room and looked around.

There was nothing here but a ray of sunshine shining through the glass window into the empty room, and the sunlight landed directly on the lone black piano at the corners of the room.

Maybe playing it for a while wouldn’t hurt at all.

You slowly approached the piano and opened it up as you made yourself comfortable, sat down, and got into the rightful position, gently laying your hands on the keys. Immediately, you started playing one of your favourite pieces of all time, Summer by Joe Hisaishi. Unbeknownst to you, your body began swaying along with the music, enjoying the moment you were in.

That was until a clap made you stop your tracks.

“Wow, that was some excellent playing right there.” The male gave you a round of applause as he slowly approached you, causing you to jump right up, looking all flustered.

“I-Umm—I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to play the instrument without approval—”

“Oh no, no! The piano is free for anyone who wants to play, so you’re all good,” he reassured you, causing you to calm your fast breathing down by placing a hand on your fast-rising chest.

As he finally reached where you were standing, he posed a question directly at you. “Is there anything that I could help you with?”

It was there, and then you took in his facial features as the sunlight shone from his face. His soft fluffy brunette hair, those doe-like eyes, and how mesmerising it was as he smiled. Adding onto the fact that he keeps smiling in the best way possible, your heart starts to flutter.

“Umm, hello?” He was now waving his hands over your face.

Oh, right. You were supposed to sign up for a club. What on earth were you thinking, Y/N?

“Y-yes! I’m here actually to umm…sign up for the club,” you said reluctantly, a little bit too shy with your answer.

That was when the male’s eyes widened, and he did a little jump to indicate how happy he was to hear that from you, and he quickly extended out his hands to you, giving you a handshake.

“But of course! We are always open to new members joining the music club! Oh, pardon me, where were my manners? You can call me Jacob.”

“Y-Y/N.” You replied.

It has been around two weeks since you joined the music club, and everything has been going smoothly for you. Thanks to Jacob (who turned out to be the club’s president), he has helped you so much in trying to get you to blend into the crowd and with other musicians, creating a very safe and warm atmosphere for everyone.

It was also then that you noticed what kind of a person he was. He was very gentle, yet suitable to be a leader. The tone of his voice and the way he handled things fairly and reasonably made everyone respect him and want to perform alongside him.

From what you have heard from the club members, Jacob would lead the team to busk at the city centre once every two to three weeks, which was where they would earn some money that served as their reward as they went out to celebrate once in a while at the local party scenes such as the bars.

Thanks to his guidance, the university’s music club eventually garnered enough audience from the school and the public to the point that they have been invited to perform multiple times throughout the year. You have heard that even local communities such as the orphanage and childcare facilities would often ask Jacob and his team to function for the underprivileged ones, and they would gladly volunteer, even if it were for free.

There were a few times when you stayed behind to help Jacob close up the music room (more like you were trying your best to spend much time with him as much as you could), and it was when you decided to ask him about his thoughts and the way he did things around here.

“Music just means so much to me, and I would gladly perform every day even if I had to. It’s not about the money; it can be great as a little side income, but what matters most is that I do this because I am passionate about it,” he replied, clearly stating his goals and reasons well.

Ever since that conversation, you notice more in detail how he did things or even when he performed. Just as he said, he was passionate—it didn’t matter if things were hindering his way, he would still make way for it.

No matter how burnt out he could be from his coursework or side job, he would always place the music club first, making sure that not only he enjoyed the whole process but also the club members as well.

Slowly, you began to admire him for not just his good looks but also his personality. It was as if he was this fine perfect gentleman that had just entered your life easily, and you couldn’t stop thinking about him each day.

It was the way he was always smiling with others, the way he would sometimes sit at the piano and play a duet with you, the way you both were guitarists, so one of you would either offer a fun little duet session after club hours, even up till writing song lyrics together.

And how there was one time he unintentionally got his arms around your waist when you slipped from the wet, freshly-cleaned wooden floor from the club, and he caught you in time.

That was something that you have thought about all the time ever since it happened.

As the weeks progressed to months, the little spark in your heart for him eventually grew, and it just kept getting bigger each time you saw him in the same club room.

And that was when you knew you were in big trouble.

End of flashback

“Damn, you're whipped,” Yujin concluded after listening to your story.

“I know. That’s why I’m telling you this, Yujin. I’m so screwed.” You buried your head in your palms, the slight headache becoming more prominent now.

“Hey, what’s wrong with liking a senior? I’d say it’s your time to shine and confess to him.” She reassured you by gently rubbing your back before you slowly lifted your face up.

“That’s because I think I might be in too deep,” you mumbled.

“And how exactly did you come up with that conclusion?”

“Do you ever start stammering and slur your speech when they get close to you like they’ve not done anything, but somehow you just can’t converse like a proper human being.”

“Oh.”

“When they literally tell you how they absolutely love your eyes and loved making them roll?”

“Okay. Go on.”

“And that you actually finally got their contact number and literally named them ‘do not leave me alone’?”

“Hold up, let me see.”

Reluctantly, you fished out for your phone in your back pocket and scrolled through your contact list until you found Jacob’s. As you click into it, you nervously hand your phone to your cousin, praying internally that she will not drop another diss to make you feel worse than you already are.

Do not leave me alone ❤️‍🩹. That was exactly what was written for the club president’s contact name on your phone.

“Damn, Y/N. I never would have thought you would be so delusional. I’d like to think that you’re far worse than I am,” Yujin declared, turning your face into a bright red tomato again.

“I know, Yujin! And I have never felt this way before. That’s why I needed your validation.” You were practically doing somersaults mentally right now, wishing that you could take it all back, but at the same time, you needed to let out your inner feelings too.

As Yujin handed your phone back to you, she raised an eyebrow before posing you a question. “So, what exactly do you intend to do from here on?”

“There’s this upcoming music festival at my university this weekend, and I will be performing on stage.”

“Oh, that’s great—”

“And I’m going to perform a song I wrote specifically about him,” you blurted out.

That made Yujin shut her mouth as she tried to process what she had just heard. “Wow, Y/N. You are literally going all out on this.”

“I just need a way to get this off my shoulders somehow, Yujin. And it’s now or never,” you said.

“Will he realise that you are trying to serenade him, though?” Yujin asked as she placed her hand on your shoulder.

“Success or not, I will still do it. And then I’ll completely forget that I’ve ever written this song ever again.”

It was finally Friday night, and the auditorium hall was filled with students, lecturers, and outsiders. Peeking from the backstage, there was this nervousness in the pit of your stomach, and you were now trying your best to rethink your actions.

What exactly had made you even decide to sign up for the concert in the first place had remained a mystery for you, and looking back now, you swore you would’ve thrown a cold bucket of water over you to wake you up from your insanity.

But it was too late to turn back now, as it would be your turn on stage in a few minutes. After the previous performer finished his chosen song, the MC briefly introduced you and your contributions to the music club before finally inviting you onstage.

As you entered with the white guitar you had gotten for Christmas a few years prior, you tried your best to search for Yujin amongst the crowd—sure enough, she was sitting right at the side, waving her hands enthusiastically to cheer you on. You couldn’t help but flash a smile back.

And finally, you decided to find the man of your dreams, and he was sitting right in the middle section along with the other club members. He gave you a clap just like the rest of the audience did and mouthed out a few words that you couldn’t grasp. Perhaps he was just saying “all the best,” as one would as they support their fellow members.

When you finally reached where the microphone stood, you adjusted yourself before positioning your fingers along the instrument's strings and introducing the piece you were about to perform.

“This song was written by a special someone in the crowd tonight, and whoever that it may be, I hope this song speaks to your heart and that you mean a lot to me. Without further ado, enjoy.”

With a few strums from the guitar, you gathered enough courage to smile before singing into the microphone.

I’ll be honest. Looking at you got me thinking nonsense. Cartwheels in my stomach when you walk in And when you got your arms around me Oh, it feels so good

Instantly, you noticed several people from the crowd starting vibing along with your song as they naturally swayed their bodies from left to right, enjoying the melody and rhythm your song produced.

I had to jump the octave I think I got an ex, but I forgot him And I can’t find my chill, I must’ve lost it I don’t even know, I’m talkin’ nonsense I’m talkin’, I’m talkin’

When you peeked from the corner of your eye, you noticed how Yujiin practically stood up, clapping her hands along with the rhythm. Naturally, the people around her joined in, as did the crowd from the middle and far left section.

God, were you so grateful for that, so much so that you were trying to hold back your tears.

I’m talkin’ all around the clock I’m talkin’ hope nobody knocks I’m talkin’ opposite of soft I’m talkin’ wild, wild thoughts You gotta keep up with me I got some young energy I caught the L-O-V-E How could you do this to me?

I’ll be honest. Looking at you got me thinking nonsense.

With one final strum, you ended the performance with a bang, and you got the crowd to give you one of the loudest cheers you have heard throughout the night. Some have even given you a standing ovation, and you swore that tears were about to form in your eyes.

You quickly redirected your attention to Jacob, and he did the same, standing up while giving you that sweet honey smile that you’ve grown to be obsessed with, clapping along with the rest of the audience.

Thank you for existing, Jacob Bae. I hope you can hear my thoughts through this song written specifically for you.

With a final bow, you quickly exited the stage.

You were sitting on a bench at a park near campus, opening the bottle of sparkling water you had gotten from one of the nearby vending machines.

You met up with Yujin right after the show and told her how you wanted some time alone just to wind down and digest everything that had happened. You reassured her that you wouldn’t be gone too long and would return as soon as possible. Thankfully, your cousin understood the message and agreed so long as you did not venture far away nor leave her alone too long exploring your campus.

With a sip of the water, you couldn’t help but smile as you looked up into the skies filled with stars on a clear night like today. The secret was finally out, and a burden was lifted from your shoulders, so you could just sit back on the bench and relax a little bit.

That was until a voice brought you back to reality.

“Mind if I join you?”

You jolted up from the bench to see the man you were trying to serenade, and immediately you felt the heat rise towards your cheek, and you began stammering again.

“Y-yes, o-of course!! Umm..g-go ahead!!”

As he sat next to you, you naturally shifted slightly away from him and ducked your head down as you began to rub your palms around the water bottle you were holding back and forth. Jacob noticed your demeanour, and he couldn’t help but giggle as he saw the redness of your face becoming more prominent.

Because he had always known how you have been having a crush on him.

To break the ice, he devised a simple conversation to help you loosen up a bit and break off the tension.

“I really like your guitar, Y/N. It’s just the right shade of white, and seeing it reminds me of elegance and simplicity but in an attractive way.”

“U-uh, thanks! It was gifted to me as a present—”

“Just like you, Y/N.”

Wait, what?

Did you just hear that right? Or is your mind playing tricks with you? Maybe the after-effects of adrenaline from the performance got you thinking nonsense. But you had to make sure.

“I umm…I beg your pardon?”

“I said what I said, Y/N. I know you have a crush on me.”

Oh no.

“How I make you feel all giddy and excited every time I talk to you.”

Oh, hell no.

“And I’m going to guess that the song you just performed was directed towards me.”

Lord Jesus, take the wheel.

At this point, you felt as if you were receiving dozens of arrows shooting right into your heart one at a time, and you were just about to pass out. What you thought was a simple crush became way too apparent to the point that your love interest has already known since day one.

This is the most embarrassing shit ever.

You quickly recollected yourself by sitting up straight and clearing your throat before responding properly.

“Ha-ha, I guess I-I was too obvious!! I-I’m sorry if I might’ve made you un-uncomfortable in any way—”

That was when Jacob interrupted you. “What makes you think I was uncomfortable by all of this?”

Jacon now inches a few spots closer to where you were, and your butt was glued shut on the bench because if you were to move any further, you would end up falling straight onto the grass.

Oh, good lord.

“I’m actually grateful for you, Y/N. I think it’s the first time anyone has ever felt that way about me,” he smiled.

That was when you blinked your eyes. “W-what, really? How can people not fall in love with you—” You clasped your hands over your mouth as soon as you said the “L” word.

He chuckled. “I don’t know. People have always seemed to view me as a good friend but not a potential love interest. I haven’t had one since a long time ago, and that made me rethink if I could ever date again.”

Gently he laid his hands onto yours that were situated on the bench as he turned his full attention to you now.

“And funny enough, I’m pretty sure I have feelings for you too. The moment I saw you playing Summer on the piano that first day we met, I knew there was something different about you. And I am so glad that eventually we got close to one another.”

After that, Jacob finally took in a deep breath before turning his direction back to you, which made you gulped for a second. “I think it wouldn’t be fair for me to not give you a proper response to your confession to me, no?”

Oh, god. It’s here. “S-so…what are your thoughts, Jacob? Was the song okay?”

“Y/N. It was far beyond just okay. It was a masterpiece, and I loved how quirky you are with the lyrics. It was something else, but it suited my taste.”

As he finally intertwined his fingers with yours, he inched his face closer to yours until they were centimetres apart.

“I accept the proposal, Y/N.” He smiled.

“Y-you…you do?” You asked weakly as if you were already not melting enough from the tension and heat.

“Will you give me a chance, Y/N?” There was this glistening in his eyes, and he looked exactly like Puss in Boots from the animation that both you and Yujin loved watching when you were kids.

“If you’re ready to deal with me, of course,” you stammered.

He gave you the biggest smile before pulling you into a warm embrace. “More than ready, Y/N.”

As you sunk into his embrace and took in his scent, you rested your chin upon his shoulders and stayed just like that briefly before Jacob broke off the hug and gently grabbed both of your shoulders, his eyes now landing on your lips.

“May I?”

Without giving a proper answer, you immediately shut your eyes, indicating that it was a yes in your books. Jacob chuckled at that for a while before leaning in to give a peck on your lips.

The sweet moment was then ruined by a ruffling noise coming from behind as both you and Jacob turned towards its direction. Sure enough, you found your cousin Yujin emerging from one of the trees with her phone in hand, recording the whole session.

“Now, that is what I call a successful indirect confession!” She exclaimed.

“Miss Ahn Yujin don’t you even dare—” you quickly threatened her before you took off running towards where she was, and she did the same but ran away from you instead.

“You will be sleeping on the streets tonight!” You yelled.

“Try me, Y/N!” She replied.

Jacob watched as the two of you began chasing each other around the park, and he couldn’t help but giggle as he laid back and propped one arm on the bench, just admiring everything about you.

“Little did you know Y/N, that you also got me thinking nonsense about you all day every day.”

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ginjones · 1 year ago

Text

An ending (Ascent)

It’s probably not normal, Hob will reflect later, to walk in on your boyfriend sitting cross legged on the floor, wearing a giant pair of headphones, clutching a spoon in one hand, and staring into the middle distance in what can only be described as a state of divine rapture.

Perhaps it is for celebrities who have access to all the really good drugs, but celebrities don’t leave their partners bundled up in bed while they nip to Tesco’s to buy more milk.

It’s also not normal that he’s completely naked, save for one black sock which sits defiantly on his left foot. That would explain the detritus of clothing which greeted him on his way down the hall, but not whatever…this is.

Dream is sitting with his back to the living room bookcase where Hob keeps his vinyl, a selection of it discarded around him. He’s playing absently with the cord of the huge Bose headphones, weaving the coils around his delicate fingers, lost in thought. And there’s nothing to suggest he’s noticed Hob’s presence, no questioning whether Hob has remembered to pick up his favourite snack. For a moment, Hob wonders if he should whip out his phone; take a sneaky picture of this ceremonious event. Then he notices the shimmer of tears falling serenely down his partner’s cheeks and discards the notion entire.

“You okay, sweeting?”

No response. He shrugs off his messenger bag and sits down to join him, scooting over the laminate floor in a graceless bum shuffle.

A soft, white light from the overhead lamp illuminates the scene. It pours over Dream like a sheet of pure silk, highlighting his nakedness and the paleness of his skin. There’s a wonder to his expression; something soft in the way his mouth is held slightly open, his hair mussed from sleep. Like a renaissance painting, he thinks, in the way that all academics conflate one thing with the other. like Iris in the land of Hypnos and yet, he looks so human.

Because of course, he is.

It’s been 4 months and 3 days since he’d chosen to join Hob in the earthly realm of humanity. Hob’s been keeping track on the calendar, trying to offer him one new experience a day. They’ve watched classic movies, read each other poetry, (Dream still has the perfect voice for orating) and early last week Hob had introduced him to modern music (the Beatles were a hit, the Stone Roses were not).

Hob’s immediate presence must break Dream out of his reverie because slowly, sapphire eyes meet his and wordlessly he places the spoon down, picks up the sleeve of an album and holds it out to Hob like it’s the Turin shroud.

It’s not immediately identifiable. The artwork a scant wash of beige imposed over an image of moon craters; aesthetically pleasing yes, but not particularly noteworthy. Hob’s collected vinyl for the better part of five decades but his visual memory’s not the best. Without being able to hear what Dream’s listening to he’s drawing a bit of a blank. Then he sees the sparse red writing at the top and the name down the side and all at once, it clicks.

Brian Eno has broken my boyfriend.

It’s not the first time Dream’s had such a visceral response to artwork in these acclimating months. It had been very sweet to find him weeping over local artwork in the coffee shop they’d visited in Coventry. The issue was the shame he’d felt afterwards. In the car park outside, Hob had soothed him, rubbing gentle circles across his back as he listened patiently to Dream’s lament that it was all too much, these…feelings. I cannot hide them like I did before.

This time however, the tears seem to have stopped and a hazy sort of smile plays at the corner of his lips. He’s coming back to himself and in the privacy of this moment, shared only with Hob, he may be able to appreciate this outpouring of emotion for it is, something human.

“Want to take off the cans so we can talk, love?”

Hob’s pretty sure Dream hasn’t learnt to read lips, but the headphones are slowly lifted away, leaving the tinny echo of the song playing in the background. His expression changes to imitate something of his former status, a furrow of the brow, a regal upturn of his chin.

“Ah, you have return to me. You woke me when you left you know?”

He does, in fact know this. When he had risen gently from bed that morning, Dream had moved to pull him back; a flow of pale arms moving like water, muscles softened from sleep. He’s still getting used to it; the sense that Dream belongs here. That he won’t apparat back into endlessness, leaving the bed cold, the tea undrunk, the rooms quietened by his absence.

“And I’m guessing that’ll be the reasoning you give when I find arse prints on my lovely, new laminate floor?”

“You were gone for too long; I decided to entertain myself.”

“By listening to Brian Eno naked?”

“Yes”, his eyes trail down slowly to observe his current state, “I realised clothing was detracting from the experience.”

He can’t help but chuckle at that.

“So, you like Brian Eno, and I can see that he’s affected you,” Dream nods slowly, looking down to the album on the ground. “What is it about this album in particular, because I can tell there are some big feelings here. I want you to know we can discuss them.”

For a moment, Dream is silent, playing with the cord in his hands. He’s sitting a little straighter now, his shoulder muscles tightened in a familiar stance. Weighted by the question perhaps, a wish to answer dutifully, but still, he pauses for several seconds longer, worrying his bottom lip.

“It is… soothing I suppose. I enjoyed the piece Mata from this composition. It is nightmarish in its construction, recalling a jungle swollen with noxious blooms, but this one?”, he places a finger to the title, An ending (Ascent). “It remindsme of the space between form and thought where I once spun the diaphanous silk of my creations. It was where I was most at peace and upon listening, I found myself reminded of those moments.”

That is, quite frankly, a lot to unpack.

At his core, Dream remains a storyteller, weaving an elaborate web of seemingly disparate ideas. Hob finds it all a bit overwhelming. How he can take a piece of art, deconstruct it, and recraft it into something new. Pulling inspiration from the air, plucking its strings, and finding where the vibrations cross paths with his own experience. And Hob must be getting better at reading his partners mind because, in a quiet, searching tone, Dream asks:

“Has it been written for me?”

This man, Hob thinks This man who has come back to me, who has crept into my life and reads my books and listens to my music. This man who lays himself out to me in naked candour.

“Oh love, come here then. Give us a cuddle.” He’s blushing now, a pink hue spreading across the lily paleness of his chest. His skin is warm when Hob pulls him closer, and it smells sweet and living from sweat. “I mean, maybe? You tell me. Ever pay Mr Eno a visit like you did Shaxberd?”

“No,” Dream continues, “but it is as if this man has looked upon me and glimpsed a fragment of my being.”

“That’s a common phenomenon of the human experience I think. Lots of people feel like songs speak directly to them. Yours just happens to be written by Brian Eno-which doesn’t surprise me,” he chuckles affectionately, “he’s quite a conceptual artist-it’s all very ethereal.”

“Ethereal…” Dream pauses, his brow crinkled in thought. “Yes, there’s an otherworldliness to it I suppose… but a tangibility all the same. How the counter melody sits low in the mix-the bass notes appear rooted to the earth while the top notes look towards the sky. What did the first humans wonder when they looked towards my mother? I do not know…. I did not care for them as I do now”.

“Well,” Hob continues, “perhaps they thought about their own existence? Their place in a world which is confusing and often painful. Perhaps they wanted to feel like they were being protected by something bigger than themselves. Spirts; angels.”

“Angels?”, Dream scoffs “Angels do not sing like this. The holy choir is faultless in its melodies. It lacks the vibrancy of imperfection, the subtle intricacies of the human spirit. No; this piece holds far more divinity.”

“Ever thought about taking up music journalism Dove? Pitchfork would have a field day.”

As predicted, there’s no response to that.

So, Hob bundles him up and they sit on the sofa listening to Apollo together. Tomorrow, he’ll try and convince Dream to watch 28 days later, with the promise that An Ending (Ascent) is in the soundtrack. They’ll eat nothing but comfort food and Hob will remind Dream to brush his teeth before he goes to bed and in an otherworldly Parthenon, the muses will smile fondly down, and kiss the brow of a kindred aesthete.

#the sandman #dream of the endless #dreamling #hob gadling #Brian Eno #the sandman fanfic #lets simp of Brian Eno and cry about our feelings

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