#eye lens implants

[jasminemerritt003]

Eye Lens Implants: Advancements in Vision Correction Technology

In recent years, the field of vision correction has experienced remarkable advancements, particularly with the development of eye lens implants. These innovative solutions have transformed the way individuals with vision impairments can regain clarity and enhance their quality of life. This article delves into the latest developments in eye lens implant technology, their benefits, and what to expect from this cutting-edge procedure.

Understanding Eye Lens Implants

What Are Eye Lens Implants?

Eye lens implants are artificial lenses surgically placed inside the eye to replace the natural lens, often due to cataracts or other vision problems. This procedure, known as cataract surgery, has evolved significantly over the years. Today’s implants not only restore vision but also provide a range of options to suit different patient needs.

Types of Eye Lens Implants

There are several types of eye lens implants, each designed for specific vision correction needs:

Monofocal Lenses: These are the most common type of implants, providing clear vision at one distance—either near or far. Patients often need glasses for other distances.

Multifocal Lenses: Designed to offer multiple focal points, these lenses allow patients to see clearly at various distances, reducing or eliminating the need for glasses.

Toric Lenses: These specialized implants correct astigmatism, a common refractive error, in addition to providing clear vision.

Extended Depth of Focus (EDOF) Lenses: EDOF lenses provide a continuous range of vision, allowing patients to see clearly from near to far without the jump between different focal points.

The Advancements in Eye Lens Implant Technology

Enhanced Materials and Design

Recent innovations in materials and design have significantly improved the effectiveness of eye lens implants. Modern lenses are made from biocompatible materials that are less likely to cause irritation or complications. Advanced designs minimize glare and halos, enhancing overall visual quality.

Customization and Precision

One of the most exciting developments in eye lens technology is the ability to customize implants for individual patients. Surgeons can now use advanced diagnostic tools to measure the eye’s unique characteristics, allowing for highly precise lens selection and placement. This customization results in better visual outcomes and increased patient satisfaction.

Minimally Invasive Techniques

Advancements in surgical techniques have also made the implantation of eye lens implants less invasive. Many procedures are now performed using phacoemulsification, a technique that involves breaking up the natural lens into small pieces for easier removal. This minimally invasive approach reduces recovery time and allows patients to return to their daily activities more quickly.

Benefits of Eye Lens Implants

Improved Quality of Life

The most significant benefit of eye lens implants is the substantial improvement in patients’ quality of life. Many individuals report enhanced clarity and a newfound ability to enjoy activities they once struggled with, such as reading, driving, or engaging in hobbies.

Reduced Dependence on Glasses

With the availability of multifocal and EDOF lenses, many patients find they can reduce or completely eliminate their dependence on glasses. This freedom can significantly enhance daily activities and boost confidence.

Long-lasting Results

Unlike contact lenses or glasses that require regular replacement, eye lens implants are designed for longevity. Once implanted, they can last a lifetime with minimal maintenance, providing patients with lasting vision correction.

What to Expect During the Procedure

Pre-Operative Assessment

Before the surgery, patients undergo a comprehensive eye exam to determine the best type of lens for their specific needs. This assessment includes measuring the eye's curvature, length, and overall health.

The Surgery

The implantation procedure typically lasts about 15 to 30 minutes and is performed under local anesthesia. Patients are awake but relaxed during the surgery. After the natural lens is removed, the chosen eye lens implant is inserted through a small incision.

Recovery and Aftercare

Most patients experience minimal discomfort and can return home shortly after the procedure. Recovery typically involves using prescribed eye drops and attending follow-up appointments to monitor healing and visual outcomes.

Conclusion

Eye lens implants represent a significant leap forward in vision correction technology, offering patients improved clarity and freedom from glasses. With advancements in materials, customization, and surgical techniques, these implants provide a reliable solution for individuals seeking to enhance their quality of life. If you are considering vision correction options, consult with an eye care professional to explore how eye lens implants may benefit you. Embrace the future of vision correction and rediscover the world with clarity and confidence!

[drchameensamarawickrama]

ICL (Interocular Contact Lens) surgery also popularly known as EVO Implantable Collamer is a good substitute for LASIK surgery. This surgery is ideal for nearsighted people, i.e., those people who cannot see things that are far away. Generally, nearsighted people see objects that are further away as blurry. So, for these people, a great way to get their vision corrected is by going for ICL eye surgery which involves the insertion of implants into the eyes permanently.

[simonh]

Intraocular Lens Implantation by National Library of Medicine Via Flickr: Contributor(s): National Institutes of Health (U.S.). Medical Arts and Photography Branch. Publication: Bethesda, Md. : [Medical Arts and Photography Branch, National Institutes of Health], 1979 Language(s): English Format: Still image Subject(s): Lens Implantation, Intraocular Consensus Development Conferences, NIH as Topic Genre(s): Posters Abstract: White poster with an eye comprising the entire lower half. The dates and location of the lectures are given. Extent: 1 photomechanical print (poster) : 71 x 56 cm. Technique: color NLM Unique ID: 101454410 NLM Image ID: C01034 Permanent Link: resource.nlm.nih.gov/101454410

[healingtoucheyecenter]

Best Eye Hospital in Delhi for The Eye Treatment

When it comes to keeping the fitness and well-being of your eyes, deciding on the proper eye clinic is of the utmost importance. A shining instance of superiority in eye care, The Healing Touch Eye Centre stands out as a shining instance of excellence inside the bustling metropolis of Delhi, that is home to a mess of tremendous healthcare options. We have finished the distinction of being the pinnacle Eye Hospital in Delhi as a result of our determination to imparting unmatched care and innovative solutions. This has allowed us to turn out to be the most sought-after vacation spot in Delhi for entire eye treatment.

Unparalleled Expertise: Your Trusted Eye Specialist in Delhi At The Healing Touch Eye Centre, we know the importance of confident your eyesight to informed professionals who location your health and nicely-being at the forefront. The outstanding results achieved through the group of professionally qualified eye professionals in Delhi we employ for patients of every age are because of extensive medical understanding that is coupled with sensitive care. Irrespective of whether or not you’re looking for everyday eye checkups, surgical interventions, or specialized treatment for complex eye troubles, our specialists are committed to the availability of personalized care that serves your requirements.

Comprehensive Care: Elevating Standards at Our Eye Care Centre in Delhi The Healing Touch Eye Centre is the premier eye care center in New Delhi. The facility is committed to leveling up by delivering complete eye care services. Starting from state-of-the-art diagnostic services to innovative treatment methodologies, The Healing Touch Eye Centre offers a 360-degree strategy to promote and restore your sight. Our goal of assistance includes everything from regular eye check-ups and prescription spectacles to specialized care like LASIK, cataract surgery, retina treatments, and glaucoma control. With a focal point on affected person training and empowerment, we attempt to equip you with the expertise and resources had to make knowledgeable selections about your eye health. Empowering Visionaries: Transformative Eye Treatment in Delhi At The Healing Touch Eye Centre, we believe that every individual deserves access to the highest standard of eye care, regardless of their circumstances. Our excellence does not end within our clinic’s walls. We aim to actively engage in creating health awareness and ensuring that our quality eye treatment is accessible to everyone in the community. the Healing Touch Eye Centre is your partner, whether it is for routine care or highly specialized intervention to retain and enhance your vision for decades to come. Why Choose the Healing Touch Eye Centre? At The Healing Touch Eye Centre, we realize that your vision is priceless, and thus we promise to provide the best quality eye care possible. We are the best eye hospital in Delhi because we have combined expertise, professionalism, compassion, and cutting-edge technology to provide you with the personalized care that is the best for you. We are a group of highly experienced and dedicated eye professionals that will continue to promote current developments to offer state-of-the-art solutions for a variety of eye problems. Routine eye tests, specialized therapy, and operations are the focus of The Healing Touch Eye Centre, which is concerned with your wellness and strives for high performance.

[asgeyecareindia]

Are you tired of struggling with cloudy vision caused by cataracts? Cataracts can significantly affect your quality of life, making it difficult to perform everyday tasks like reading, driving, and even recognizing familiar faces. Fortunately, modern medicine has advanced significantly in the field of cataract surgery, offering highly effective treatments that can restore your clear vision and improve your overall well-being.

[crystalsofaequarin]

In the Kingdom of Aequarin, magic and technology go hand in hand with the use of beautiful luminous crystals.

The village of Shimmer Mist is a small town filled with necromancers and dark magic users. While the rest of Aequarin lives in relative comfort and peace, Shimmer Mist is a place few dare to venture.

You assume the role of a detective being tasked with uncovering the mystery behind an unusual string deaths plaguing your town.

You journey to the Capitol seeking aid for your investigation when you receive news of Lord Belfry, the mayor of Shimmer Mists' death. You are sent back with a group of companions to assist in your task to catch the murderer before they strike again.

Soon, you realize that beneath the surface of seemingly isolated deaths lies something far greater than anyone could have imagined. Just how deep does this mystery run? Will you be a good enough detective to solve it? The fate of Shimmer Mist, and maybe the entirety of Aequarin, lies in your hands.

Customizable MC.

Choose your clothing style

Romance and befriend your fellow companions.

Build unique relationships with companions.

Decided how you feel about the town and people of Shimmer Mist.

Choose your magic color and weapon.

Save your village...or don't?

DEMO

Celdrine Wynmire | The Healer (F)

Celdrine is a kind and joyful soul. She is rarely seen without a smile. She loves to help people and is the ultimate optimist.

Appearance: Long light green hair, blue green eyes. Lightly tanned skin with small freckles on her face.

5'5"

Magic/weapon: Yellow magic, uses an intricately crafted staff.

Style: Frilly

ISFJ

Birthday: March 20th - Pisces

Carmine Garnet | The Knight (M)

Carmine is quite and serious. His loyalty can't be matched. Though he can be intimidating once you get to know him you see how much he is willing to do for the people of Aequarin and his fellow companions.

Appearance: Long fiery red hair. Fair skin and piercing green eyes.

6'2"

Magic/Weapon: Red magic uses a broad sword.

Style: Functional/Stylish

ISTJ

Birthday: January 2nd - Capricorn

Artemis Krane | The Scientist (M,F,NB)

Artemis is intelligent and can come off as cold or aloof. They always think with their head and never let emotion cloud their judgment... usually.

Appearance: Glasses and lavender eyes purple hair. F and NB Artemis have long hair usually pulled back. M Artemis has short to medium length slicked back hair.

M: 5'10"

F/NB: 5'7"

Magic/Weapon: Purple magic uses a lance.

Style: Travel/Comfort

INTJ

Birthday: November 18th - Scorpio

Kaelin Novus | The Merchant (M,F,NB)

Kaelin is a a former monster hunter turned merchant. They are fairly well known through the Kingdom and incredibly popular in the Capitol. They are charismatic and generally kind. They love a bit of gossip though.

Appearance: Medium brown skin, deep amber eyes. M and NB Kaelin have long locks. F Kaelin has long goddess braids.

M: 6'

F: 5'6"

NB: 5'9"

Magic/Weapon: blue magic uses long sword

Stlye: Elegant

ENFJ

Birthday: July 26th - Leo

Nym Solaris | The Watcher (F)

Nym was born with very little magic much to her families dismay. With the help of crystal bodily enhancements such as her left eye which has had a crystal lens implanted in it, Nym has exceeded everyone's expectations of her. Nym is very smart and reclusive, she can be quiet and a bit standoffish at first, but is a generally kind-hearted person.

Style: Functional stylish

ISTP

Birthday: September 13th - Virgo

[ellestra]

Lifecycles of Disposable Beings

One of the things I really hoped for in the Guardians of the Galaxy Vol.3 movie that it would remember that Rocket and Nebula were for five years the only surviving Guardians. That they became heroes and helped save the Universe and defeat Thanos twice. Not only for the friendship they developed but also because this movie has shown how similar they really are and how important it must’ve been to have each other. And I got my wish in such a perfect way.

Neither of them expresses emotions easily so it’s there in a little things. It first shows a bit when she gets him Bucky’s arm for Christmas and he made her her new one that she then uses to stab and ward off his attacker. The way Nebula fights for him from the start unwilling to let him die and pulling all of her family – including Gamora she kept from away from Guardians all this time. The subtle ways she looks devastated both by his injury and then by what she discovers when she reads his implants and then his history. The way she is the first person Rocket asks about when he wakes up (sure she was hailing but he noticed). How he instantly agrees to help save the kids. And of course the big one is her breaking down in tears when she hears his voice. Mantis has too speak for her because she is so overwhelmed by relief.

They were both remade to be of use to others without their consent and for purposes not their ow. They lost the family that meant everything to them along the way but they got through the worst of it together and I was so happy to see them be there for each other.

And I loved so much that Nebula gets to use her extensions to save Rocket (and people in general). Throughout all the movies so far we saw the changes Thanos implemented in her through the lens of the pain and suffering it caused her. We see it used against her and against those she holds dear (in Infinity War it’s her torture when being taken apart again is what brakes Gamora and leads to her death, in Endgame Nebula her own mind is used against her will – she doesn’t even own her thoughts because her father took even that). But now she finally owns it all and can use it as she wants. She can choose her own modifications – get rid of her face implants and get a new arm. She can use the fact that her body can fix itself and she can connect to databases with her mind for the benefit of her friends. She decides how to be and who she becomes.

And this too is mirrored in Rocket. High Evolutionary can consider him proprietary technology and think he owns his mind but he never did. He only gave Rocket parts all the true advancements Rocket built himself with a little help from his friends. All the real sparks of invention were really Rocket’s all along and he was always perfect in all his imperfections. There was always love and generosity there that he even tried to extend to the High Evolutionary but there was nothing in that man that could appreciate it. But there were people who cherished it and helped it grow until Rocket too could accept all the parts of himself and fully embrace his past and create his own future.

In defiance of another a bad father, because what would MCU be without them, and Guardians certainly have the worst (Thanos, Ego, High Evolutionary – you cannot pick a worst bunch). But as bad as Thanos and Ego were we only really watched them through the eyes of the adults they damaged. We see what Thanos’ “love” did to Nebula and Gamora in the scars on their bodies and souls but we never see their childhood pain directly. We experience their fear and hate and lashing out at others and each other but we are spared the gore of what happened (at east on screen). And we only see the remains of the countless lives Ego destroyed on his quest to become a God with capital G. The children he discarded when they didn’t fulfil his expectations. The lives he deemed unworthy once he realized they were of no use to him.

High Evolutionary combines both of them and we get to see it close and personal. This one shows us how it looked from the start when Rocket was too new to know how little he mattered to the one who created to him. Oh, Rocket knew he didn’t care about his pain and the callousness he treated the ones he deemed failure and how easily the anger and abuse came. This is why he stole the parts whenever he could. But P13 still had hope that if he’s useful enough he and his friends would get a reward and be allowed to live under the sky instead of the filthy cage in some dark storage room. He hoped for a better future until he was told he was only parts. That his friends were only mistakes. That there was no future for them.

And what could he do but disagree and fight back? But even that rightful anger ended in tragedy. Standing up to injustice doesn’t guarantee success. Those he tried to save died and he lost everything. No wonder he’s so scared to try again through out the first two Guardians movies. But his new family allows him space to try and when he loses them Nebula is there to help get him through that loss again. He doesn't end up all alone this time.

It was so heartbreaking to see the casual cruelty of the High Evolutionary – from the big picture to the small details. The little things like dirty, unkempt cages where they are left while their wounds mend. And the cruelty of the whole uplifting process that only cares about the perfection as the end result but never troubles itself with pain of its subjects. Creating perfection to keep it imprisoned and forever subservient – even when they are allowed to be a civilization, they are never free and, like the Sovereign or Counter-Earth, still can be destroyed anytime. And it always will be because perfect creation is nothing but a lie High Evolutionary tells himself.

High Evolutionary could’ve never accepted a creation that would really be what he strives for because that he would have to set them free and he could never relinquish control. He would also have to accept that there would be someone greater than him and he cannot abide that. He spends so much time chasing Rocket to see what made him creative but even if he found it in Rocket’s brain he could never use it. He can’t stand Rocket being smarter than him and seeing the solution he missed. High Evolutionary, always needs to be in control and to keep that he could never let anyone be better than him at anything. This is really why batch 89 had to die. He couldn’t stand someone surpassing him at anything. Especially not someone he considered so inferior.

So he is constantly disappointed by his creations and destroys them whenever he makes something newer and shinier. The Counter-Earth is destroyed with all its animal hybrid inhabitants – including the nice bat family Peter charmed into helping them and we barely have time to notice. At least with Rocket’s friends we have time to be properly horrified by High Evolutionary’s cruelty and he at least gets punished for it. But a whole planet of sentient creatures gets lost in explosions and the only one given a moment is Ayesha – everyone else is lost while we only think of saving Rocket. And then saving Nebula, Drax and Mantis.

And it’s horrifying because we learn that all that High Evolutionary’s creations really needed is care and time. We see it with batch 89 and with all the others. The kids they save might've not been creative enough just after he made them but look at Phyla in the New Guardians being her own person. Adam Warlock was naïve and dumb but he was awakened too early and after that he clearly learns fast. He even learnt empathy in 2 days - something High Evolutionary hasn’t managed in centuries. And Sovereign probably can learn too once free of High Evolutionary’s toxic ideas of perfection. There was more to the Counter-Earth than crime and they too could’ve been great once not trapped in the 1980s hellscape High Evolutionary put them in. High Evolutionary’s real failure is not seeing any of that.

All of them needed just time and love and High Evolutionary didn’t have it for any of them. Not for Warlock in his cocoon. Not for 89P13 who fixed his process. There was always the next shiny thing and the last one was left rotting in filth until it was incinerated.

This is all explains Rocket we know from the movies so well. This why he is kleptomaniac with compulsive need to collect technology – it saved him and you should be wary of those who hoard it. It also explains why was so self-sabotaging with his new family. Letting himself love them meant hurt if he lost them and he lost them all. The devastation of the Snap hits even harder now. But this time he at least had Nebula. He had someone who could really understand how deep that pain was even without the details.

Outside of High Evolutionary’s control Rocket has grown into someone who could weather the loss and came and save his new family and have them save him in return. Then they saved everyone they could from the High Evolutionary because he didn’t deserve any of his creations. They were all too good for him.

In the end we see the new Guardians of the Galaxy combining Rocket’s different families. They are made of people who were like Rocket made by High Evolutionary and the ones who joined the Guardians in previous instalments. He started with nothing and too afraid to try this friends and family thing again and look at him now – leader of this team. Working well with others. All of them getting the best of their second chances. And saving the Galaxy along the way.

And somewhere out there on Knowhere Nebula and Drax make sure they all always have a home to come back to.

[staticofthetv]

Take two!

Favourite frames from the new B-Side chapter, featuring some analysis because I have coherent thoughts this time 'round :D

Beware, spoilers below for the B-Side as well as the manga

@veiled-bird that goes for you too, you're nowhere near meeting this guy yet

First up, I love this chapters art. It reminds me of when I was little and asking my dad to help my brother and I beat the last level of episode 3 in lego star wars tcs

Also the chapter title? I have so many thoughts, they'll be discussed more in depth further down but they will be discussed /pos

Numbers weapon 1 mention!! I'm very excited to (hopefully) get more lore about it. Although I am curious if it's like a contact lens or something, I thought it was closer to a surgical implant or maybe some weird side effect from using numbers weapon 1. Mostly because I don't think he's been drawn with normal eyes yet in the manga (at least from what I remember)

Either way very much hoping we get some more numbers weapon 1 lore in this :)

This whole scene but specifically "what good does a test proving I'm abnormal do" hits so hard, especially as someone diagnosed with ADHD in my late teens. Having that feeling of there's something wrong with me for so long and being brushed off every time because I didn't act like the stereotypical 10 year old boy with severe ADHD (a psychiatrist literally told me and my mum i probably had adhd but she wouldnt diagnose me,) I did start to kind of give up on ever figuring it out.

Narumi was incredibly relatable to me in the main manga (not because I'm a badass, I'm very lame lmao) because of the behaviours he exhibits, hyperfocusing on games, constant dopamine seeking (through videogames and online shopping,) needing to be fiddling with something to better process the information being given out, etc.

Narumi is also incredibly smart, its stated explicitly that he got top scores in the entrance exam and I can't imagine those tests are anywhere near easy. It gives neurodivergent kid being told they just need to apply themselves to do better in school/make friends/just function in a neurotypical way in general.

This also comes from his being kicked out of several orphanages, and then even after joining the defence force (especially after being told by Isao that they take anyone that can show skills and results) getting kicked out by the second division and every platoon in the first until he ends up under hasegawa. Considering the title too this is 100% supposed to read as the classic "troubled kid" (many of which are neurodivergent) that not many are willing to put effort into helping. Isao is giving him a way out of the life of having no home to go back to, only to be struck with the threat of getting kicked out once again a year later. Narumi is a very skilled and capable fighter and no one in their right mind would argue with that and it once again all comes down to being labelled as too difficult, hard to work with, never paying attention

This chapter just hits so close to home with me

Baby Mina!! I know there's a decent amount if it in the manga but it's still weird to see her with short hair. I love her so much

There are many more words of appreciation I have but all thought went into dissecting Narumi's character lol

And so being kicked around by hasegawa begins

I love his face here, top tier expression

And here we see Isao solidifying the thought of skill and results being all that matters, there's no way Isao was going to let Narumi get kicked out, especially not after showing aptitude for handling numbers weapon 1. I like to think at this point he does also care for Narumi, I think he sees a lot of Kikoru (or what she could be) in him and especially he sees himself in Narumi. And even though he's only ranked captain Isao would clearly fight to keep Narumi on the force (he probably already had to for Narumi to get transferred to the first division instead of just being dropped when he didn't mesh with the second)

This is also the beginning of Isao and Narumi's mentor/mentee relationship, Isao knows exactly how to handle Narumi and his child prodigy-ness and help him reach his potential as a defence force officer. I think that's part of why Isao shows little care for how Narumi handles himself when off duty, it may be that he knows he can't change Narumi in that way, it may be that he himself just doesn't care for all the professional decorum, either way Isao plays the very important role of being Narumi's main support while he's in the defence force (until Isao dies anyway, whoops.) Narumi needed a space where he could not only be himself but be accepted for it and have the trust of his peers and superiors that he would get the job done when he needs to, and whether it was on purpose or not Isao provided exactly that for him.

This also ties back into the earlier ramble about Narumi being the typical undiagnosed neurodivergent "troubled kid"

(Also the origin of what Narumi says to Kikoru ~9 years in the future :D)

Omg jaeger is canon? Kaiju no. 8 and pacific rim crossover when? /j

Another interesting tidbit about Narumi is his self confidence, he knows he's capable and isn't afraid to tell people that. He says playing support is annoying but what I see is someone that knows he can do better placed somewhere else and has decided to take that into his own hands. He won't get kicked out of the defense force but I wouldn't be surprised if he gets into a shit ton of trouble for taking Isao's words to heart and disregarding his orders, even though I do think he'll be an asset to the battle and perform better being closer to the front lines.

Poor hasegawa has his work cut out for him keeping Narumi in check (a captain and vice-captain match made in hell)

[hwaightme]

Long exposure

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI FOR STAR'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist)

🔳 pairing: seonghwa x afab!reader, wooyoung x afab!reader 🔳 genre: smut, angst, dark themes, fluff if you squint 🔳 summary: as you struggle to see a future with your boyfriend, Wooyoung, and spiral into an obsession over your boss, Seonghwa, you hope to see a different world through the lens. 🔳 wordcount: 14.6k 🔳 warnings/tags: photographer!seonghwa, sculptor!wooyoung, everybody in this fic is toxic I swear (this is FICTION pls don't do this), boyfriend!wooyoung, boss!seonghwa, cheater!wooyoung, cheating on the cheater, language, hints at violence, arguments, passive aggressive behaviour, photography, art, living in black and white, unhealthy social relations, kind of edited kind of not, lmk if anything else 🔳 taglist: @doom-fics @layzfeelit @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 🔳 a/n: Hello, this has been haunting me... hope you enjoy, any reblogs, comments, likes appreciated, much love and big hugs!!

🔳 NSFW warnings/tags: slight corruption, pictophilia, fingering, masturbation (m&f), light voyeurism, deriving pleasure from taking pictures of someone with them not knowing, blowjob, wet dreams galore, perhaps cuckolding, degradation, petnames, boudoir, soft dom hwa, jealous/teaser woo, dom-ish woo, implant and pull out (irl pls wrap that before you tap that)

You were no stranger to pleasure. You watched him share it many times. Each one, an offering to the altar of hedonism. Such was his work, his vision.

Park Seonghwa was a man who dedicated his life to passion. The greatest satisfaction imaginable, on the brink of after life and illusion, the closest to heavens above that a person could ever experience. He had an eye for it, discovering its many manifestations in the smallest of things. Rarely was there a place that did not bear its traces in his magnificent, deep brown eyes. To the unenlightened, ones who had not had the honour of being in the vicinity, let alone sharing musings with this enigmatic man, this amounted to nothing more than phosphenes that they assumed had permanently corrupted his vision. But you knew better. His art was an ode to raw human nature, an address which only he would dare reveal and be capable of subjecting himself to the rolling waves of judgement that came with it.

You were not sure who you wanted to be. This was a question that plagued you every time you entered the photography studio and let yourself sink into its monochromatic elegance. Did you want to be the decor - the paraphernalia occupying the white, low shelving units off to the left from the entrance, or the potted ivy, suspended by chains that your teacher had painted with mars black acrylic, cascading to blend with the barely-there tulle? Would you turn into an object so you could spend your days in motionless awe, observing the master at work, embracing art in pure desire? Perhaps you wanted to be one of the models - the goddesses, clad in armour of lace, performing seduction through a complex sequence of motions with a ritualistic sanctity, irony leaving the beholder intoxicated. Maybe you would be willing to expose yourself down to your intricate network of capillaries, tear yourself apart to translate and immortalise pleasure with the click of the shutter, nothing more than a vessel for the artist's higher meaning. One this was certain, however. You did not want to be him. The creator. The bearer of the prodigal eye. The tormented soul curating fantasy. For that place was only ever for the Park Seonghwa as he was - his essence, his flair.

This, you had been confident in, for as long as you could remember, so, for as long as you had been dedicated to following the photographer's work. You were partial to the coiled intensity contained within each piece, and had spent many hours poring over collections, published photobooks, specials in editorial magazines. This had become a near religious act, carried out in silence, in the illusion of privacy of the tiny apartment that you shared with Wooyoung, who, acting like more of a ghost than a man, would lurk behind you to catch a glimpse of the beauties who you could never compare to. In those moments, you would choose to dissociate from the dysfunctional, cacophonic home life and tap into the memories you had with each piece. Be it the past or the present. The grayscale, interestingly enough, possessed more colour than all else you were meant to hold dear.

Tracing the curves of the bodies frozen in time, treasure maps to your personal safe haven, you traversed the avenues of your own memory: from what you had helped shoot and what was now gracing your shelves as a reminder that you were worth something to someone in your home, all the way back to the beginning. It was the triptych that you had analysed for one of your modules way back, when you barely knew anything except the basics of what was now your craft. It was a composition set in what you had later found out was Seonghwa’s secluded seaside studio down in the south, one which he used extensively in the summer months. It had been your first dive into learning of Gestalt grouping, and how easily a photographer could actually influence a viewer – a couple of miniscule tweaks, and the world was changed. Much like yours. The three pieces were terrifically entrancing in their proud solitude, but, in tandem, were a wave that covered and drowned you. The Rembrandt lighting, in contrast to the gentle waves made by white and shadow grey bedsheets, framed the centrepiece, the guideline to observation – rolling hills from waist, to hip, to the hint of a black stocking. Perhaps a person not in the know would try to argue that since the image was in monochrome, just like every other of the photographer’s works, it was not possible to infer hue, but you had the honour of knowing: Park Seonghwa lived in black and white. Floor, set, attitude – a balanced divide. The mind was loud, he had told you. If the composition needed physical colour, it would be able to complete the picture for itself. Otherwise, the colour of sensation was the underlying theme and mission.

That piece was what had started your lighthearted interest, or so you had naively called it. From mild appreciation of his works, to warm enthusiasm for the inner workings and technique, to going down the spiral to feverish adoration of all that Seonghwa captured. It was a glimpse into how he saw the world, and how he wanted to aid others in perceiving it. The initial embarrassment that had come with studying his photobooks that you had checked out from the library had subsided as you ceased to avoid the concept of eroticism. On the contrary, in some of your projects you had made attempts to emulate the master’s style, which had earned the attention of one of your professors and closest mentors. After confirming that you had not gained access to a closed early showing of the photographer’s exhibition, he had been kind enough to extend an invitation, thereby changing the course of your life.

The event had been an extension of the man, complete in the same hues, down to the very last detail. Even the guests were all a part of the scene, blurred to emphasise the subject, the creator. He was gallant, attentive, guiding you from masterpiece to masterpiece even though he had hordes of hardened professionals and eagle-eyed critics to entertain. He had made you feel central to something other than your obligations. Deserving of time and space. And left you with a business card where he had neatly added his personal mobile phone number, making you promise to consider working with him as soon as you could.

After a year of stalling on any decision, you had applied, and became his apprentice. You had discovered that Seonghwa had been keeping tabs on you, producing printouts of your own work during the informal interview he had organised, and asking you to elaborate on aspects that you had intentionally hidden away. You realised that it was impossible to hide anything from him, your mind was behind an open door. Rapidly, his world became yours, and you turned to seeing it in the beautiful black and white.

You took a sip of your hot coffee from your beloved dalmatian patterned mug cradled in one hand, scrolling through social media with the other. Checking works tagged with anything relevant to your teacher’s studio and works had become a habit for you, and as such, you continued to do it even though Seonghwa had hired a social media manager a couple of months ago. To your defence, most of their work was done remotely, so you could take pride in being the first one to see your favourite artist break out into a megawatt grin, giving you a peck on the cheek if you were lucky. In those moments, you swore you would do anything just to see and feel it all again. A smile crept onto your lips as you indulged in your fantastical daydreams, one which you tried to mask by taking another long sip.

“Your boss really should let you catch a break. This is not even intern level stuff.” You had not noticed your boyfriend’s presence behind you, and with a glance behind you noticed that he was lazily eyeing your screen. Good thing you were deep in some nature photography at least, rather than your boss’s or the studio’s page. It had been a touchy subject recently. And by recently, it meant the entirety of the time you had been hired there and had been earning a steady income from what Wooyoung had called your ‘hobby’.

“Call it market research. It is important for any artist to keep a finger on the pulse, otherwise they will be left behind, and won’t be able to innovate.” You locked your phone for good measure, placed it face down on the table and spun yourself around on the bar stool. You had insisted on having a pair at the breakfast table to be economical, seeing as the area was simply an extension of the kitchenette’s counter space. Plus, they were a wonderful snowy white and matched with your recent furniture upgrades.

Wooyoung appeared less than amused, though it was not much of a surprise to you.

“But the guy will be taking the same fap material pics anyways, so what’s the point?” he countered, running a hand through his dark hair. There was something you knew for certain about the man you had been with for the last one and a half years, and living together for nine months. He was hilariously easy to read. Past the façade of biting comments and cheeky quips, he was as good as a flyer on a posterboard at keeping things hidden from you.

“I see you have your day planned out, huh?” Your response was quick and venomous, and you noticed Wooyoung roll his eyes and trail the gaze to a print hanging on the wall to your right, in the living room. It had been a gift from your boss, a ‘less stimulating’ piece perfect for family life, as he had elaborated, making you laugh. After giving you a soft embrace, he had let his hands linger on your waist, and whispered his congratulations on your moving in with your boyfriend right against your ear, sending shivers down the spine. You were not ashamed to say that it was Park Seonghwa’s touch you had thought about during your first night, in your own apartment, together with Jung Wooyoung.

“So do you. Dolled up and ready to impress, I see?” a classic response as of late. Equal parts aggressive and accusatory, equal parts hinting at his still lingering desire for you.

Irritation. Jealousy. That was what had been fuelling your relationship since the start. Truth be told, you were surprised it had lasted as long as it did, considering how you wanted nothing more than to slam his head against the wall sometimes. That was what happened when two individuals who had sold their soul to the creative arts decided to live under the same roof, under the illusion that they had found their lifelong muse. You had been there, in the very beginning; confident that Wooyoung was the one likeminded collection of visions, the closest thing there was on this earth to a soulmate. You had melted under his touch, much like the intricate sculptures he crafted and carved away, but it only resulted in you eventually being burned and the ceramic of your heart - cracked.

Nothing gold couldn’t fix. Or, in your case, it was the hours you spent at the studio, letting yourself get carried away by the intoxicating sensuality you were tasked with capturing. If it were anyone except you who was with Wooyoung, they would have probably started a riot and confronted him, but his behaviour gave you an excuse to mentally reduce him to an abstract expressionist dot on your canvas and dedicate yourself wholly to your idol. You told yourself that you were engaging in these mind games only until your lease were to run out. Then, you would quietly not renew it – to your advantage, Wooyoung was not much of a documents man, leaving it to whoever was closest, which just so happened to be his ‘dearest’ with a vengeance. It was not a matter of taking it out on Wooyoung because you had been scorned – oh no, it was because you found it unfair that he could act this way while your conscience had deemed this to be taboo. Besides, you needed something above you, a higher legislative power, to take that final step.

But who were you kidding? Had you the ability to control the way in which you thought of Seonghwa, you would have probably had the resolve to pack up your things and go anywhere, as long as it was far away from Wooyoung. He would remember you by the pieces he had sculpted in your honour, inspired by your frame, by the fire that had burned out some time ago. But even then, say you had left, and your black suitcase with metal decal at the ready, camera lazily slung over your neck, where would you go, when your feet could only remember the route from this loveless apartment to P.SH Studio?

“Mm, you know it. Rough day today, so I will probably be back late.” Not that you would notice was left unspoken. You wanted to at least finish your coffee before the bickering started.

“Just how you like it. Isn’t it right?” He was pushing your buttons, purposefully twisting your worlds into lewd euphemism. Wooyoung enjoyed driving you up the wall – probably the closest he came to actually giving you some kind of excitement in recent weeks. Otherwise, he was perfectly satiated, and you might as well be décor, sauntering around from room to room. It was as if he took pleasure in knowing that your mind was hazy, but the distance between you concrete, and only getting larger.

You swivelled back around to face away from your boyfriend, but caught his darkened gaze at the last moment. Head lowered to make his dark hair fall slightly over his eyes, a dangerous smirk dancing on his lips, still in your vision as you stared at the bottom of the cup, thoughtlessly moving the remaining grounds that were suspended in rapidly cooling droplets. You listened to Wooyoung pushing himself off the cupboards, and step towards you, until his chin was hovering just above you shoulder, and you could count his breaths.

“Want me to give you a little pep talk?” he whispered, turning to peck your earlobe a couple of times. You gripped your mug, not wanting to satisfy Wooyoung with a reaction.

In these moments, you almost wished you were still infatuated instead of subjecting him to impersonal evaluation. The attention would have then felt special, instead of as an apology in advance for inviting his assistant over to your shared accommodation. Again, his habits and methods were very traceable and blatantly obvious. But at least it let you think of the man you were going to be spending the entire day and evening shooting with, and helped you get rid of your frustrations early, so they did not bother you as much while you watched your master with unbreaking focus. And like in long exposure photography, eventually, everything except him became a blur. It was impossible to associate your own satisfaction with anyone else, so when you felt Wooyoung’s hot, needy lips trailing from your ear to the lower jaw, and his hand snaking up your thigh, pushing your black skirt up with it, you merely shut your eyes, and thought of him.

To your delight, Wooyoung was not being vocal like he usually would as he continued to caress you, his other hand now having found its place on your waist, effectively making him wrap around you. His sturdy chest was pressing against your shoulder blade while he nipped at the sensitive skin at the base of your neck. You cursed yourself as you felt a moan threatening to escape you, and bit your lower lip. Oh, to imagine yourself as one of those models in monochrome, revealing their true nature for the first time only to him. He never touched them, at least not in front of you, but oh how they wanted to be. You understood them wholeheartedly – your imagination being the only thing to get you closer to Park Seonghwa.

The hand that you mentally removed from its owner slinked away from your thigh, completely hiking the skirt up and slipping under the band of your black panties. You liked to think that your strive to match inside and out gave you more desirability, thus enabled you to be more confident at work – a silly way of masking your subconscious intentions. Who were you trying to fool? The other slid under your shirt, and, without bothering to take it off, tugged your bra aside to reveal your shapely breasts. The sudden change in temperature proved to be stimulating, leading to your nipples increasing in sensitivity. The hand carefully, patiently brushed over the tip of its erectness. You inhaled sharply and gave a little further into the feeling. No harm done, right?

Tapping into your mind palace, it conjured an external image of what was happening to you, the subject of the moving photograph. It was a surrealist, fantastical performance, challenging the imaginary viewer with physical abstraction. You could not help but wonder if how you were unravelling right this moment would look good through the lens. What settings would be used for this shoot? You ran the numbers, and with each one, turned more and more pliable, a putty in the strong arms that had permeated into this early morning day dream. Two fingers slipped into your half open mouth, and teasing, you ran the tip of your tongue over them, wordlessly giving full access and commanding they stop teasing you any longer.

A 105mm lens would do it. Focus should be on the act, other elements fading into the background and removing any undesired presence – a mechanical fog, heightening your desire. Heat pooled to your core as you felt what could only be equivalent to sparks of electricity coursing from your exposed and stimulated breasts down to the now aching arousal. He would probably praise you for being so responsive to him – any task, no matter how small, had earned you the warmed gratitude before, so why could that not be the same here? He would give you his undivided attention, slipping those fingers, coated in saliva, down to the pleading sex, poking your inner thighs to give him better access. You obliged, visualising how a gentle, approving smile would settle on the beautiful man’s every feature, down to the slight squint of his eyes. He leaned in closer to you, his chest hitting against your back once more as he suddenly squeezed your nipple, and ran his digits over your hard clit, coaxing out a gasp.

Your molars sank into your inner cheek with such power that you thought you would draw blood, as the fingers continued to tease you, moving in painfully slow circles around the nub, making your muscle clench and inadvertently grind your hips forwards, for even a small bit more friction. The action spurred him on, and soon enough you felt a pair of soft lips trailing across from your jawline to your collarbone, occasionally stopping to pay special attention to what he knew would make you scream. Barely being able to contain yourself, you stopped preventing the sinful melody from escaping you, and moaned to a particularly precise adoration of skin on the side of your neck. Fingers, which had been mercilessly abusing your impossibly sensitive clit, slipped between your folds and glided down their length, coating them in your own arousal. You had not realised just how wet you had gotten, raw desire coating the inside of your panties.

This had to be shot in the same rush as the one you were being enveloped by – handheld, manual, shutter speed at 1/200th – it only made sense to do so. This had to be sultry, less exposed to the lamp lights. A sensuality meant to be contained in the shadows. With a final flick, which made you groan in pleasure, only begging for more, the fingers travelled down the length of your soaked pussy lips, practically hooking it in and curling themselves into you. The entry of the digits into your trembling cunt sent your thoughts into a flurry, clouding you from seeing anything except stars and the man who shared his name with the celestial apparitions.

If not for the heat building in your lower half at an astounding rate, you would have been more amused at your conclusion for best using ISO 800 for this scene – high sensitivity, indeed. How terribly you wanted to capture this intimate portrait, encapsulate the dreamlike tenderness that you were visualising for none other than Park Seonghwa. Black and white. Lustful and loving. Fast and slow. He was a man of contrasts and unthinkable combinations, he was the only one who could understand your vision.

The rhythmic, accelerating pumping of masterful fingers into your pussy was caused you to lose focus, attention span reduced to mere instinct. Writhing in the chair, you were about to fully transport yourself into the studio, forgetting to set the shutter speed for the pretend shoot, when you caught the last voice that you wanted to hear in the building of your high:

“I bet you’re thinking of him, you dirty girl.” Wooyoung hissed right into your ear, an unsaid challenge in his tone. A flash of guilt ran over you as you were caught red-minded but did not want to go through the trouble of denying that what he said was true. Blame sculptors and their skilful hands, bringing you to a certain ruin.

“Shut… up, ah!” you yelped as you felt your boyfriend’s thumb pressing against your bud, moving at an entirely different pace as it stimulated just the tip, shifting your folds further apart.

“What, don’t want to hear me in your daydreams?” he teased you, knowing full well that you would agree if you weren’t so secretive. He had clocked some time ago that you were not indifferent to your boss, however he did not realise just how far gone you were. In his mind, the claims he was throwing out were a mere improvisation, the best he could conjure to fuel his hate-driven passion towards you.

“I- mfph, said, shut-”

“Such a needy little slut for him.” You were insufferable. When you were like this, trying to regain control of the situation even though you were clay in his hands, melting under him, he was regretful that you could not be the only one in his turbulent life.

If it was not work, then it was the mood. If it was not the mood it was something he did wrong. And if, somehow, he did nothing and you confirmed that, you simply pitied him. That was the power you held. You ignited within Wooyoung a ferocious need to destroy the pedestal onto which he had elevated you in the very beginning. But as he gave you distance, toppled one platform after another, you only seemed to soar higher above him, just within reach but still, not someone he could control. He was no longer a figure of romantic authority for you – perplexed by the exact timeline, he assumed that it was simply meant to be that way. Carnal pleasure in this united destruction.

“I know you want his fingers in your tight cunt, don’t you, my darling?”

You could not respond as Wooyoung continued to pick up the pace, bringing you closer and closer to orgasm. The pet name was obviously taken from the snippets of conversation between you and Seonghwa that your boyfriend had overheard. Whenever he would have an idea for another series, or changes to some details for already planned scenes, he would run them by you, always interested in your opinions and taking them as the most valuable pieces of the creative puzzle. You really were here, getting off to the thought of being listened to, the master's hums and approvals at the forefront of ideation. You had to give it to him, Wooyoung knew how to make you come undone, even if it was by guesswork.

The vocalisation of the real source of your climb had flipped a switch, and Seonghwa flooded your mind. Wooyoung did not speak up again, and you were gone from regular consciousness, the dark lustful abyss surrounding you. Park Seonghwa was right there with you. You dashed from vision to vision, stringing them together to describe how he would feel. How it would feel for him to be the one to capture soft, supple tenderness of your throat with his enticing mouth, and how his arms would embrace your form and crush you in boundless pleasure. For the first time, he could be in front of the camera, together with you. The blur of the background disappeared as you adjusted the focus to the lewdness, the wet sounds of his outrageous rhythm. His face was now crystal clear before your eyes, his sharp features, half-lidded eyes as he brought you to your orgasm, praising you for being such an obedient little girl for him.

Your orgasm came crashing down on you with unexpected force. Overwhelmed, you let the sensation wash over you like a tempestuous ocean. Seeing only those two beloved colours, you felt for the seat beneath you to support your unsteady form. You could not yell, could not let out as much as a whisper as the etchings of the man you so desired glinted before you, lips parted in a silent proclamation of brutal, unrefined passion and obsessive adoration. Comical, how it was his manifestation amidst your sensual release that was the embodiment of love and lust, and not the man who you intentionally possessed with the role of Seonghwa.

“So fucked out, Y/N, shit. Just look at yourself.” Wooyoung chuckled as he watched you coming back to reality, trying to blink away the haze of the climax. He had remained still, wrapped around you almost in a protective gesture, his chest serving as a support for your arched body. His own arousal was frustrating him, trapped under a layer of denim, the friction only making him more impatient.

“Vulgar, as always.”

“Says you – look at this precious little mess you made, my sweet. Or can I even say ‘my’ anymore?” He demonstratively twisted you, so you were facing him, and with the hand that was attacking your breast now on his hip, he lifted the other away from your pulsating sex and lapped up the nectar that remained on his fingers, eyes lowered and scrutinising you through fluttering lashes. The bulge of his crotch commanded your gaze, albeit only for a split second. You were far from being in a Wooyoung mood. You squeezed your legs shut, feeling the soaked panties rubbing against you, and rolled your eyes.

“So, why in the world did you do that?” your nonchalance was painfully fake, airiness taking away from any impact you had intended for your question to have.

“If I told you I missed you, what would you do?” he countered, throwing the ball back in your court.

“Tell you to shove that bullshit where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“Way ahead of you there, sweetheart.” He winked, completely dispelling your sensual musings.

“Run that mouth one more time, Woo, I dare you.”

“Oh, so you want my mouth to treat you right too. How greedy. Plus, I bet you would much rather have a certain someone else do that.” He kept on going, goading you into a spat. What had previously been a joke now transformed into a hypothesis, and Wooyoung was keen to see how far you would go to keep the truth from him.

“Shut u-”

“I’ve seen the photos you have of him, sweetie. All ‘focused with tongue sticking out’, or ‘making a playful face in a selfie’. Even I can imagine as far.” He could see that he was close to cracking you.

In your vulnerable, stupefied glory, the barrier between your pursed, plump lips and cruel heart was as weak as it could be. He needed to hear that you did not love him anymore. Not because it would give him any particular relief. Mainly for minimising regret over his actions. Convincing himself that what you two had was long gone and you were stuck in a routine. He needed to hear you say it. Wooyoung needed you to utter the words, be explicit that you wanted someone else. He peered into your eyes, unwaveringly, in search for at least a hint. The rise and fall of your chest was still uneven, yet you managed to return a glare, outwardly unfeeling, unresponsive, and worst of all, indifferent. He wondered if his little act of service was actually an act of pity on your behalf.

“I’m leaving.” Silence turned to bitter disappointment. It was time to slip away, very noticed, but that was the intention. Wooyoung pulled you closer to him by pinching your collar, letting you observe how a natural grimace underwent a metamorphosis into a boyish grin, as though he genuinely wanted to wish you the best.

“Have a lovely day.”

“Have fun being a ‘hand me down’,” you mercilessly quipped, fed up with his taunts. If one were to objectively compare you and him, the answer to who was the instigator of this shipwreck was clear enough. You were confident that it was not you, since up until this point, you had remained strictly theoretical, and did not dare bring up neither his unfaithfulness nor your dissatisfactions. “Fuck, I have got to change these now…” you stated, mainly to yourself as you hopped off the stool and made a beeline for the bedroom to grab a fresh set of lingerie.

Wooyoung fell into deep contemplation, leaning back on the counter with his elbows, and letting out a soft whistle. So, you did know of his escapades, as he had assumed. He had to give it to you, you were a phenomenal actress, and all these months that he had been indulging in one temporary partner after another, you had maintained a cool demeanour, letting your own evolution and walk through life without considering him in the present nor the future. Had you really so readily accepted his dismissal of you? His disrespect? Were you not seeking… vengeance? Could you not openly hate him for his sake?

He regarded you with indignation as you rushed from room to room, intent on ignoring his presence. Had you spared him any more emotion than basal instinct, even if it was just demanding his silence with rude yells, Wooyoung would have been content. But all he had left now was to watch your silhouette, now donning that oversized shirt dress, gathered at the waist with a black leather corset which had never failed to drive him wild, disappear out of the apartment, front door shutting softly behind you and leaving him alone with his demons and the divine shapes of your body that his hands had memorised. For the first time on his own volition, he cancelled that day’s rendezvous. He would only be able to think of you, anyways.

You were late. Terribly late. And no excuses about public transport or traffic could cover for you. And like hell you were going to say to your boss that you were late because you were fantasizing about him while your cheating boyfriend fingered you. To be frank, you could mention that you could not board the trains since they were overcrowded, but you encountered the issue only because you left the house at peak commute time, like an utter fool. Shame had settled into you as you were travelling across the city, squeezed between passengers, faceless and much the same as one another. You had tried to avoid touching anything, relying on your platform shoes to give you balance - you did not want your filth to embed itself into the doors and handles. How was what you had allowed yourself to do at all appropriate? And how had you conceded to Wooyoung's accusations and teasing, accepting his conjectures as soon as he played into your darkest dreams? Stuck in this blameful loop, you had almost missed your stop and had a number of glares sent and not so kind words muttered in your address, as you lurched through the crowded carriage by sheer inertia from the train stopping, and out of the doors.

It was nearly forty minutes past the hour on which you had agreed to begin preparations today, which meant even less time until the arranged boudoir shoot with the model Seonghwa had signed to work with. Thankfully this did not require too much effort, since for the most part you and your boss had the bright idea of beginning last night: setting up the backdrops, readying the series of props and leaving the clothing rack with pre-selected outfits out by the set. But the fact that you broke a promise that you had made to your boss, the master, was what aggravated your brooding.

Once you flew up the stairs that led from the entrance to the main part of the studio, you crept into the space nearly folded over. Bowing repeatedly in apology, you could barely see where you were going, and instead of making an uneventful entrance, were halted by a hand on either one of your shoulders, grinding you to a halt and making you straighten out.

“Woah there, beautiful, don’t run me over.”

You went pale as you came face to face with none other than your boss. The one who you had just been thinking about in less than professional ways. You grinned at him sheepishly, lowering your head and choosing to focus on his outfit. Black Oxfords, slacks and shirt, black hair in the elegant 4:6 parting… of course he would be embodying this timeless hue. He had explained to you before: the reason why he was dedicated to the monochromatic palette was because if one were to consider its formulation, black was the most ‘colourful’. Seonghwa was enamoured with everything around him, and thought its predominant use to be the optimal method of honouring nature.

“Hey, my eyes are up here.” He chuckled, while adjusting the top of the dress from invisible creases, giving you a discreet onceover. It was impossible for you to remain composed, and an indecipherable amalgamation of ‘sorry’s and haphazardly mashed elaborations that all amounted to nervous white noise began to pour.

You were cute when you were shy, he concluded to himself as he took in your presently meek form, cooing that you need not worry. Though the illusion was broken as soon as he spotted what was, unmistakably, a fresh hickey that was only just gaining prominence on your delicate neck. A playful smirk threatened his lips as he raised an eyebrow and cut your monologue short.

"A kiss from your boyfriend wishing you a good day at work, my love?" The odd combination of words sent your heart ablaze. It was like Wooyoung's existence did not matter one bit to him, he was above it.

"Huh? What, sorry?"

"Your neck." You were caught off-guard by the handsome brunette pointing at his own neck, and then tilting his head towards you. An unreadable smile was on his lips as he watched your checks heat up and you stuttering out a barely audible curse. It was endearing, watching how you, normally unphased and professional, crumbling at the slightest mention of something even the tiniest bit suggestive if it was related to you.

Did you want to appear 'pure' in front of him? Unaffected and innocent? Whilst it was admirable that you had been holding out for so long, be it because of your so-called commitments or something darker, it was the not-so-subtle glances you sent in his direction that drove him to the brink of insanity, igniting a demonic creativity that led him to shoot one masterpiece after the other. Your hesitation blended with an undeniable desire was his strange addiction.

When Seonghwa had met you at his exhibition all that time ago, within you he saw a sophisticated fragility, like that of a precious artwork, or of a spring flower. At the beginning of your journey as a photographer but showing much promise, the sparkle in your eyes left him dizzy. There was something about you that reminded him of a cherub, a sweet creature untainted by misery and heartbreak. Or so was his initial perception that had given him the push to take a deeper interest in you. As he observed your rise in the circle, be it through his extensive web of connections or his own eyes, he noticed your expressions morph into showcasing a grotesque chiaroscuro. A daunting heaviness of your portrait miniseries for a class, where you had placed every pore, every wrinkle of your subjects under scrutiny in the stark light, left an inkling of fear and concern in Seonghwa's heart. This was work done in passing, an experiment for a module where you had to present your interpretation of an assigned theme, with yours being 'heartbreak'. He had found out about it by accident while catching up over a coffee with your professor for that class. And yet, it was this collection that demolished any doubts that he might have had about your future as an artist. You lived through each portrait. Your soul was shared with the model, and immortalised. A collection of portraits of people who had lost love.

You had a story to tell, and what better way to do it than through photography? Any description of his joy when you had asked if his offer of mentorship and fulltime work was still standing would be an understatement. He wanted to play a part in your development. To help you harness the immeasurable talent you had and give you the opportunity and resources necessary for a newcomer to the otherwise cruel industry. Seonghwa felt the urge to be your protector, someone who you could turn to and rely on. While you two maintained a professional relationship, he could not help but treat you with extra care and affection – it came naturally. And it only increased once he found out that, apparently, you had an excuse for a significant other. What little rationality he had left when it came to you proclaimed he should distance himself, but by a risk-hungry democracy, he only inched closer to the fire. Although you were always hesitant to share anything about your partner, he managed to piece the facts together. You were hanging on by a thread, and Seonghwa wanted to cut it and be there to catch you.

He felt it tighten once again as you dashed for the full length mirror standing in the corner of the room, inspecting the bruised skin, mortified. If only he could have the key to that gorgeous mind of yours to know just what you were recalling as you stared into the mirror and attempted to raise the collar of your dress to cover it, but to no avail. The corset – a neat contraption with a convenient zip at the back, highlighting your graceful features, was holding the article stubbornly in place. As you began to search in your bag for the concealer which you just so happened to forget due to the disturbance of your routine this morning, Seonghwa stalked towards you, raising his hand to place it over yours, reducing agitation to mere shock. The surprise on your face as he guided you into a more relaxed stance accelerated the pace of his heart to unprecedented heights.

“Do not worry about it, hey, look at me, Y/N, are you okay?” you had refrained from lifting your head.

Everything was going wrong, and you were the only one to blame. Automatically, you moved to cover the hickey, pressing a palm against it. Did Wooyoung do this on purpose, to send some sick message to you and your boss? Claim ownership over someone who was, emotionally, already lightyears away? How you despised that man, but even more, how you despised yourself for the utter lack of control you had. Splitting into thousands of pieces, you offered too many parts to the one and a half years of an illusion, clearly not having enough left to make a concrete decision and dare to spread your wings. Even if you were to be burned by the sun, you would give up anything for the smallest chance to not be plagued by the conundrum and would soar. The ghost of a touch that Seonghwa applied to your knuckles sparked your internal pleas, and again you availed yourself of safe formality, and let apologies overflow.

Confused, Seonghwa let the weight of his hand become more noticeable as he turned you a little more towards him, meeting you half way with a side step. Taking the purse out of your hand and setting it down on a painted bench set right by the mirror, he was about to pull you even closer but hesitated.

“Sorry, may I put my hands on your upper arms?” you glanced up to meet Seonghwa’s earnest expression, “Would it be alright with you?” only once you nodded did he let himself do just as he had explained, and lightly squeezed the muscle. “Y/N, what happened, talk to me.”

This man was going to be the death of you. Asking for permission over things Wooyoung did not even consider. Ever. Not even when he was just trying to ‘woo’ you, for the lack of a better word. If your heart had not melted before, it sure did now, as Seonghwa continued whispering phrases of reassurance, concerned but not pushing you to reveal more than you wanted. Presenting himself as your safe haven. He was normally open about physical affection with those close to him, but respect was an even higher priority.

“Seonghwa, I-… I am not sure I can talk about it… at least right now.” You mumbled, dropping your arm to your side.

“I get that. Sure. You okay to do the shoot? If you need to go home-”

“Anything but home! Uh, I mean, yeah. I am okay. I just need to cover this… thing… thank you for spotting it. And again, I am so sorry you had to set all of this up and I am a mess and-”

“Ma belle, what you need to cover is your responsibilities. So, if you’re sorry, get to it.” The sudden sternness snapped you out of your mental drift, and you widened your eyes. His finger dug into your skin, not quite as strong as to leave marks, but enough to make the temperature begin rising. Voice dropped into a whisper, but still bearing traces of near maternal attentiveness, he explained:

“The make up artist will be here in about fifteen minutes, but I assume you don’t want anyone to see it, so if you don’t mind, I have an accessory for you to try on.” He moved away to stride to a cabinet on the other side of the room and retrieved an item from one of the drawers.

Upon closer inspection, you recognised the item to be a thick black leather collar, with a circular silver detail at the front. This was a prop from one of the shoots you had collaborated on a couple of months ago – a series that took inspiration from dominatrix culture and bondage. Your cheeks began to heat up as Seonghwa raised it closer to eye level, and smiled sweetly, as if he did not have the same association with the object as you did.

“This should do it. And if not, you know we have some items with more… substantial coverage,” you hummed in agreement, unsure of how to proceed. Seonghwa was expectant, motioning for you to let him help with the choker.

Not finding any reason to disagree with the proposition, you lifted your hair, while he walked behind you and slid the item around your neck, positioning and fastening it in such a way that the bruise was fully concealed. As he worked on the miniature buckle, a strong sense of déjà vu overtook you, making you even more sensitive to his proximity. This was too close to what you had been playing in your head; a couple of steps going south, and it would be a re-enactment. You bit your lip nervously, listening to every breath.

When Seonghwa requested that you show the now completed outfit to him, the intensity with which he was affected by it was unforeseeable. He barely managed to utter a compliment, clenching his fist to suppress an urge to ruin the beauty. Here stood the one who he had been searching for in his art. The one who he had subconsciously been dedicating work to. The Aphrodite, and at the same time, the visionary and his partner in crime. And in that pretty collar, there was no longer any reminder that you should be off limits. The forbidden fruit. To hell with common courtesy-

Seonghwa dipped his head towards you, and once millimetres away, shut his eyes and sank into the feeling of his lips locking with yours. Just as he had thought, you were a sweet paradise, leading him into a paralysis - all he could ponder was how far he could go. You did not push away, joining him in the passionate abyss and getting drunk off his delicious and soft lips. In unison you were satiating your hunger, the current proximity simply not enough. To deepen the long-awaited kiss, you ran your fingers through his hair and gently tugged at the back, causing him to break away momentarily, revealing darkened, carnivorous orbs. He stepped even closer to you, his hips almost touching yours as hands travelled to your waist and pulled you in. Perhaps it was good that you had as little control as you did – or were just this willing when it came to this dazzling man.

There was no good reason for this to be happening. In fact, had your life been a show, most of the audience would likely say you were to blame, that you were a cheater, a whore living two lives, but to you even these seconds, turning to minutes, were worth it. With each caress you were erasing your memories of early morning, and of the fiend who, undoubtedly had organised his own fun. Didn’t a girl deserve to smile too?

Nothing felt real. Floating, life forever altered, relishing in the fact that there was no turning back. Finally, the thread snapped. A precious little bird, freed from the confines of losing oneself, day in, day out. Seonghwa noticed how you entered a flow state, hypnotised by the taste of your personal heaven. The Birth of Venus, your vibrancy brought to light by none other than him – couldn’t the other man see that you could not be carved nor moulded? You needed the spark, the energy, the worship. For that, you would go to the end of the world, but now, Seonghwa was the only one who had the power to choose if you did.

A sharp ringing of a phone interrupted your dizzying sensuality, making Seonghwa groan as he took out the vexing device from his pocket, flipping it to answer. As he talked, however, it was as though the moment still continued, with him not taking his eyes off you a single time, only motion being his mouth outlining the contours of your jawline, moving to your reddened lips to wipe away smudged lipstick. You could not move, fixated on his mellifluous low tone as he continued to admire you. Like you were his magnum opus.

“My darling, our time to shine. The whole crew will be here in five.” He covered the speaker, sharing with you what the manager on the other end of the line had stated. Unwillingly, he had to part from you, but was halted by your nimble hands cupping his face and returning the favour, clearing his face of any traces of your makeup. As a way of thanks, he turned to give your fingers a peck, a brief amused chuckle escaping him as you raised your eyebrows.

Though it was customary for Seonghwa to be a little more physically affectionate than most when it came to working in a professional environment, the significance of his attention towards you had changed drastically and did not go unnoticed by either of you. Each lingering caress held a universe, and served as silent reassurance, communication of the ongoing symbiosis between you and him. As he would reach over to grab a different lens, he would just so happen to brush past you, and send you, just you, a smile. While his hands were pressing all the right buttons, and he was uttering the right commands that the manager was translating to the model – as it turned out she did not speak a word of Korean nor any of the languages Seonghwa had picked up during his travels, and generally preferred to remain void of emotion, his thoughts were entirely on you. As he guided the model from one position to another, directed the feeling that she was supposed to be embodying, but ultimately failing, his only salvation was pretending what it would be like if you were on that chaise longue sofa, clad in elegant lingerie.

Far too many long, gruelling hours had passed by, and Seonghwa had shown far too much patience with the solemn, rigid woman on the set. The sun had already gone down, so he was trying his best to retake some of the shots, with you running from reflector to studio light, endlessly readjusting. Both you and him were winded, exhausted both physically and mentally as you, the model and the manager were the only ones left working – upon Seonghwa’s request, you had dismissed the stylist and makeup artist, agreeing that if any last touch ups were needed due to the heat from the lights, you would figure it out. Art school had taught you how to improvise in times of crisis.

At this stage, it would be better to simply wrap up for the day and pick up again tomorrow; it could be that the ‘energy’ for the shoot was off for someone, or everyone. Could be that there simply was dissonance between certain people on set. But it could not be any worse than what you had waiting for you at home, so, in some ways the long shoot was a blessing in disguise. With the new dynamic between you and Seonghwa to explore, you had almost forgotten about the fact that you had a significant other, at least until your phone began to ring incessantly in your bag, forcing you into a run across the room. As soon as you checked the caller id, your blood ran cold, and with a hardened expression, you swiped to answer.

“Y/N, hello there, sweetheart!”

“Hi.” You could not remember the last time Wooyoung had called you out of the blue. You thought that such behaviour had remained in the flirting stage for him.

“You sound stressed. Hard day at work?”

“Yes. It isn’t over yet, so I need to go.”

“Aw… And here I was, about to ask you what you would like for dinner.” He elaborated. You could hear the pout that he was undoubtedly wearing, along with some shuffling.

“Back so soon? No fun at work?” you remarked, implicitly jibing.

“Yes… terribly uneventful. Was thinking about you all day, replaying this morning…” he was acting too sweet for your liking, and for his present character. Had he been conversing with anyone else and you were listening in, you could have made more sense of it. But this made your skin crawl.

As he babbled away, your focus drifted. Never before had the man on the call felt so foreign – more distant than a stranger. It was like the dull words being uttered were entirely inaccessible, nothing more than the ghost of lost meaning, thrown into a gust of wind. His efforts were lost on you, for you had no heart to tolerate Wooyoung anymore. With an unprecedented tranquility, a conclusion had been reached, and it felt right to step away. That decision, that snap that you had been seeking had finally happened, and you were observing him while pretending to listen to the incessant chatter. The dream, the fresh start, the possibility. Seonghwa had captured your heart long before you had even met Wooyoung – so, maybe, it was you who had been unfair. Getting into a relationship when you had been simply fooling yourself.

A conversation between your boss and the manager, which had previously been level and measured out, was growing more heated by the second. You perked up at the elevated volume, and pulled the phone away from your ear to tune in.

“…I can’t work with her when she is not even trying to work with me!” Seonghwa exclaimed, clearly upset as a familiar southern lilt had seeped into the phrase, naturally deepening his voice and leaving his interlocutor taken aback. But not for long enough, as they recovered and snapped back:

“She’s pretty, isn’t she? Making her look good in a frame is your job, so, do it.”

Eyes wide, you whispered some excuse to Wooyoung, cutting him off mid-sentence. You wished you felt bad, to preserve some social dignity, but it was liberating to finally be the one to elicit shock.

"Honey, what did you say? I'm worried."

The fingers of your free hand curled into a fist as you registered the urgency in his voice. A drastic change from even a mere couple of minutes. You fell silent, processing your reaction. Why did you freeze? Why could you not just... leave?

"Y/N, darling, are you there? Do you need any help? I'll be right there if you need me..." he continued, concern growing with every syllable as you began to dig your nails into the soft flesh of your palm.

Part of you was still attached, it seemed. Some subconscious element that had been thoroughly trained by none other than Wooyoung, trained to believe him and only him. That toxic portion was still confident that he wished for nothing more except for you to be well and in a blissful harmony. In his shadow. A gifted sculptor, whispering watered down droplets of affection, softening up the clay of your innocent heart until he could leave his permanent mark. Wooyoung was here. Wooyoung wanted to be your creator. But the magic trick ceased to be impressive as soon as you realised, and now could take the risk to fight back.

"I'm okay, I'll... I'll see you later." You wanted to conclude the conversation as soon as possible, seeing as you could see that Seonghwa was beginning to lose his patience. It was a rare occurrence but unpleasant enough to avoid... at all costs.

"Is he hurting you?" A sharp jab, out of the blue, right into the arguments that you had been collecting against the man on the phone. He? Was Wooyoung really accusing Seonghwa of something you could not even begin to imagine him doing?

"What?" You mumbled, so quietly that it could have been to yourself.

"I can hear the shouting, Y/N. Not only is he overworking you, but... resorting to violence? Who does he think he is?"

Your eyes darted to the black-haired angel on the other side of the studio, about to hang his halo on a clothing rack in the strive to prove a point to a person who did not want to listen. Surely, that was an appropriate reaction? And was he not the one who gave you what you swore to be your first love-filled kiss?

"Sweetheart, just say the word... do you need to go home?"

Wooyoung was your boyfriend still, wasn't he? Many promises and commitments later, many months as one whole. He couldn't recommend something downright outrageous, since he would have to face your wrath in close proximity. Yes, you were still safe there. Home. Not perfect, but a home nonetheless. What did Seonghwa promise? Do? You were a colleague to him, a subordinate. An inexperienced photographer who barely graduated from being a pure amateur. Maybe you would be doing him a favour if you went home right now. Home to the person who had officially called you his.

"I..."

"Mm?"

"Y/N! Can you give me a hand?" You winced at the question turned command that Seonghwa boomed. It did little to dispel your assumption that Wooyoung might be right in saying you should leave, but at the same time, cleared your head just enough to realise that here you were again. Falling into the same pattern of blind obedience.

"Was it him? Say no!"

"Sorry what? Can't hear you I think you are breaking the connection is so bad so sorry I really did not understand bye-" you stuttered out, ending the call, and letting out a sigh of relief.

You felt dizzy. Exhausted. The brief conversation with Wooyoung had drained you more than the photoshoot, leaving you numb and dreading the end of the workday. Just how much strength would it take to cut all ties? You had not noticed that you had been absent-mindedly playing with the choker, and only when Seonghwa had sent a glare in your direction did you fall from your musings in a cold flash and followed his pointing gestures.

He was turning livid, his expression darkening. You slipped into the background, approaching the model, and gestured for her to follow you. Seeing as she was bored to be here, she was more than happy to follow you to the neatly folded pile of her clothes, paying no mind to the standoff occurring a mere couple of metres away. You cowered as the manager leered at you slyly, and dismissed yet another one of Seonghwa's rational suggestions for how to switch up the shoot to take at least couple of salvaging shots. As the model took her time to get ready, not having heard from her supervisor whether it was time to go or not, you saw Seonghwa's eyes bleed into a ghoulish abyss, barely containing what would be the foundation for a catastrophe.

“How about this, I can find another model, and you can find another photographer to complete this lady’s portfolio. I think both of us would be satisfied with that outcome.” he hissed, refraining from stooping so low so as to use informal language, even though the other man had been disregarding the common principle for the better, or worse, half of the day.

"Who, this... girl?" All eyes were on you, and you could not feel any smaller than you did at that moment. The manager gave you a wry side glance and crossed his arms. "Can she even model?"

"I'd say my co-creator and muse can model. Yes. And better than... many." Seonghwa bit back the offences that had accumulated, but the weight of his words was enough to hint at the lack of welcome. He nodded at you in an attempt to subtly share some comfort, but could not find your eyes, which were tracing lines between the white floorboards.

Muse. The title he had given you with such ease and pride. The title that no artist dared to use lightly out of fear of cursing their inspiration. A warmth spread over your body as the notion ate away at the embedded agitation, washing over the soul and taking, with each wave, the rotting floatation left behind by the person who wanted to sculpt your fate. A muse. And there was no better place for a muse than in a place of art and innovation. Wooyoung could enjoy his dinner by himself.

"Now, if you'll excuse us, it is late, and I don't think this should continue for any longer." The manager broke the silence, though nothing except his indignant utterance littered the ambience.

"Adieu."

The duo had departed, thankfully, in a hurry, with the manager practically pushing the lady with the stony face out of the door. As soon as Seonghwa, from his position by the window, having lifted the tulle away from it with two fingers, saw the pair appear on the street and start in the direction of the busier road that was in the studio’s vicinity, he let out a low, exasperated groan and ruffled his hair. The camera, which had weighed down on his neck not dissimilarly to a ball and chain, had found home on a high stool, while the photographer stormed towards the main set, and crashed onto the chaise longue.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you took in the sight. His right arm was grazing the floor, while the other, palm pointed outwards, was pressing into the bridge of his nose with the wrist. One leg slightly bent, the other fully lying on the plush material, he had landed in a threateningly sensual position that set you ablaze. It was impossible to tell whether this was purposeful or not, but at that moment you began to question why this ethereal man had never made an official appearance in front of the camera. The lights gave him a mystical sheen, only further enhancing the dreamlike quality Seonghwa possessed. You took a tiny step closer, careful to not produce a sound with the thick rubber soles of your boots.

He was worn out. It was painted, clear as day, across his face, and yet he still retained a regal quality, his profile – a timeless elegance. He would not hurt you. It had to be a crude lie said in egoistic anguish. The magnificent individual before you was a healing luminescence, filling up the room, embodying it, spreading the monochrome across your universe until you were hesitant to even consider external matters. This had to be immortalised. You raised your mobile phone, swiping to remove the notifications of messages that Wooyoung had apparently sent you, instead switching to the camera. The angle was not perfect, since you were on the side, the outskirts, but with a careful zoom and some manual finetuning to the settings, you could see the opportunity for a shot. Steadying yourself, you adjusted your hold on the device, and snapped away.

An unfamiliar sensation began to course through you as you focused on Seonghwa’s every detail, eyes devouring him and guiding your secret shoot. The thrill of acting on your own accord, capturing an intimate moment for yourself only was leaving you feverish. Enraptured by his slightly parted lips, you went for an extreme close up, leaning further forward and adjusting the settings once again to drop the ISO to 280 and adjusting the shutter speed to a 1/750th. Through the lens you could witness divinity embraced by pitch black, broken only by his grace. One click. Another. You were losing rationality. Snapping away, hypnotised.

“Use the proper camera. It’ll be good practice.” You froze as you were met with Seonghwa’s smouldering gaze, sent right into the lens. With a gasp, you locked your phone and shuddered, flaring up in embarrassment.

“I-I am s-so sorry, I didn’t even a-ask-”

“Apologising to me an awful lot today, aren’t you?” you could not respond, and merely followed Seonghwa’s movements as he raised himself back up and, while still on the sofa, spun to sit facing you. Legs slightly spread apar, he positioned his elbows at the knees, and intently studied you with a smug grin. “A photographer’s calling is to capture beauty as they see it, so if anything, I am honoured, my love.”

A knot began to form in your stomach as you regarded the man. How could he treat your actions so lightly? Should he not be mad? Where was the enraged Seonghwa, who had been on the verge of letting hell break loose? His unreadable nature only proved to elevate your excitement, and you eagerly approached him as he beckoned you:

“Would you show me the photos, darling?” you nodded, taking a seat to his left and unlocking your phone.

Careful not to scroll up, nor to hit any buttons to unleash the guilty pictographic altar that was the candid photographs you had taken at earlier times, you clicked on the first one you had taken this evening and tilted the screen towards the interested man. Prior consideration of your actions as only adorable rapidly evaporated as he inspected the work, astonished by its quality. You had managed to surpass the awkward positioning of the equipment from where you had been standing and made the phone work with you. Seonghwa manoeuvred to be pressed against you, thigh to thigh, and used your startled state to fish your phone out of your hands and scrutinise the pictures freely.

Judging by the reluctance to let go, he could sense that you were hiding something from him. You were heavily interested in where and how he was swiping, and one of your hands was hovering next to his. It was his duty, and his pleasure, to find out what the fuss was about. There was something unequivocally compelling about your transfixion – no dispassionate photographer would be so loving and involved in any image. Even his own works, on occasion, exhibited the ‘technically perfect, and yet far removed’ quality. Seonghwa had a sneaking suspicion about what kinds of pictures you had, but did not want to show how the sheer idea affected him. As he indulged in your reflection on the screen, your trepidation proving irresistible, a spontaneous ruse spawned in his mind, and was rolling off the tip of his tongue in an instant.

“Y/N, could you get me my camera, please? This shot reminded me of one I had taken…”

Waiting for the moment you were outside of arm’s reach, making a beeline to the requested object, he pressed on the back arrow, and within a couple of clicks and scrolls, his guesses were confirmed. A hidden album containing only him. Bursts of his profile, his physique, occupying your gallery. You appeared to be quite selective in when you took the photos, too. More often than not, you emulated Rembrandt style lighting, and the pictures you had favourited were those that reminded him of ancient Greek etchings and sculptures. When did you have the time to do this? How had he not discovered this before? He could not wipe the smirk off his face in time as he saw your shadow fall over him. Far from innocent, weren’t you? The grasp over the camera grew slack, only saved by the habit you had formed of wrapping the strap around your hand to not let it hang loose. With a victorious raising of the eyebrows, Seonghwa turned the phone to you, showcasing what he had ‘just so happened to stumble upon’, and declared:

“I think we have a lot to discuss here, love. Take a seat.” Just when you were about to stiffly settle in the same place, he roughly pulled you to him and onto his lap, grunting as you collided with his powerful thighs. One arm immediately found your waist, fingers toying with the base of the corset, while the other, phone on display, rested like a guard over your legs.

“Now, let’s see… what a collection! How long has it been?” he scrolled slowly, making sure to elevate your sense of shame, though judging by your facial expressions, you were more than happy to be treated how you were at that moment. Eyes half shut, ragged breaths, you were alert and in anticipation. “You kissed me, so you can tell me.” He emphasised, raising up the phone to poke you lightly under the chin.

“A… about seven months…”

“Wow… and how long have you been together with mister Jung Wooyoung?”

“A year and a half…”

“And how long has he been… not satisfying you?” you gaped at Seonghwa in shock. He locked your mobile and set it aside, choosing to play with the metal loop attached to the choker he had picked for you, and tugging just enough for the pressure to build.

“What?”

“Well, evidently there is something that is not there anymore… and these hickeys don’t count, my love. So tell me, what is it?”

“Cheating. He is cheating...” It was challenging to muster up the courage to say the words out loud. It was the first time you openly acknowledged the act for what it was. No euphemisms, no bent truths. It was almost too much for you, as that lump in your throat that had formed during your last conversation with your boyfriend made an irksome return.

“How long?”

“I have had my suspicions for… eight months, confident for… three.”

“I see. I am so sorry, darling I-”

“Now who’s the one apologising?” You joked, a small smile returning to you as you let Seonghwa take the camera from your hands, his chuckle making you shiver.

“Then I hope you won’t need one from me when I do this,” Seonghwa’s voice dropped into a sultry tone before he traced your jawline with his fingers and closed the minimal space between you.

Hands roaming your body, gentle, barely there, treating you like you were a priceless centrepiece made of glass. Compared to the first you had shared, this kiss was an ocean, commencing with a series of lulling waves – a reminder that you need not worry about anything except yourself and what you desired. A crescendo with a building breeze, awakening you from a forlornness and leading you into a glowing, rekindled wanting. The climb towards the crashing tsunami, consuming you as, finally, you felt wholly acknowledged, adored, affirmed.

Your yelp was stifled as he deepened the kiss and let you down slowly onto the velvet fabric of the chaise longue, making sure that your head was lying on the miniature pillow in the corner of the seat by protectively cradling you. Once your back was against the material, Seonghwa hovered over you, a hand on either side while his right knee positioned itself between your legs, with it pushing your dress upwards. His tongue pressed against your teeth, begging for entrance which you readily allowed, and sighed at the feeling of it filling your senses, Seonghwa quickly becoming the only thing you ever wanted to taste. With a tilt of the head, it moved even deeper, while his body was radiating an immeasurable longing for you, its friction against yours nearly making you question your own sanity.

Once you broke apart for gasps of sweet oxygen, sharing the hot air and watching a lewd string of saliva stretch and break between you, you mumbled out a breathy question, which you knew to be your last as you were growing more and more desperate for this man’s heavenly touch.

“Seonghwa… but why?”

“You can only see me. I can only see you. It simply makes sense, no?” he responded, giving you a quick peck on your reddened lips, followed by a couple more on your cheek, until he was right by your ear, “Let me show you that you deserve so much more, darling. Let me show you worship. May I, my love?” his beautiful, dark eyes staring into yours as he awaited your agreement.

“Yes.”

“Très bien.”

With that, the choker flew off you in one swift swipe, and, suddenly, your neck was exposed to him. Hungry orbs trained on the mark that your boyfriend had left, and soon enough Seonghwa’s lips were abusing the same sensitive spot, teasing the skin. After giving it his love and special attention, he moved to another area right beside it, repeating the action, while his knee moved higher for more support, accidentally brushing against your clothed core. You could not help but use the opportunity to buck your hips a little to add to the pooling desire. Unfortunately for you, Seonghwa had caught on too fast, and with satisfied lick, rose up and pushed himself off the chaise longue.

He regarded you through half-lidded eyes, his own arousal starting to build. No longer were there traces of the other man on you. You were free to choose whomever, and you chose him – Seonghwa. This moment had to become timeless.

“Darling, as much as I would love to ravish you right here right now, we have some photos to retake.” He could barely contain himself as you whimpered with frustration, rubbing your thighs together. He reached over to grab the camera and your phone, and added a request for you to undress. Completely.

Erection rubbing against him as he ambled towards the stand, Seonghwa heard a zip, followed by a series of rustles. “You can throw them off set for now, I do not mind.” He called out, his back still to you. A thump, and quietude. Finally at his rightful place as photographer, he let himself retrain on the scene, and felt his heat rise to unprecedented heights. He realised – this was exactly what he had been imagining every time he had a model work with him. Every time he had anybody over, this was what had been guiding his vision. You. Only you. Sat patiently, waiting for his direction.

You heard the clicking of the aperture, and took in Seonghwa’s black-clad form on the stool behind the camera. It was easy enough to guess why it was uncomfortable to remain in one place, but you were not about to ruin the photoshoot. You were a professional, after all.

“Do you think you can show me how you touch yourself?” he asked, readying his camera. You were still a little shy, so he urged you on: “You have so many photos of me, darling, show me how you get off to them. I know you do, my love.” Blushing, you finally acted, and Seonghwa could not believe it.

Sliding a finger between your slick folds, you wetted it with your own arousal and began to rub slow circles over your sensitive clit, head tilting back.

“Legs a little wider for me,” a flash, “that’s it, well done. What are you thinking of, ma belle?”

“Ah… y-you…” the sinful mumble was electrifying, and one of Seonghwa’s hands drifted towards his bulge, which had grown even larger, starting to become problematic for his concentration.

“What specifically, Y/N?”

“H-how you could take me, right here.”

“Take you? Elaborate, tell me everything. And yes, just like that, beautiful.”

Your hand began to move faster, flicking the nub, while the fingers of your other hand took to producing unimaginable sounds as they curled to stimulate the clit even further and progress to glide into your pussy with ease. A course of flashes and clicks signified that Seonghwa particularly enjoyed this course, so you did not hold back and let yourself moan, whispering his name as your high started to approach.

“How you could- ah! Make me come. In any way- AH, Hwa, I’m close-” beloved fantasies floated before you as you continued your performance.

“You are gorgeous, Y/N, I’ll make you come, not to worry, darling, just one more shot, okay?” he cooed as he continued to palm himself through his trousers, watching you bring yourself to a euphoric ruin.

“I- I am n-not sure I’ll la-ast-” you cried out, the orgasm imminent.

“That’s perfect, Y/N, show me.” His finger hovered over the button, like a panther lying in wait to capture its next kill.

“S-Seonghwa!”

“Yes-”

A flurry of shots surrounded you as you shut your eyes and were hit by a satisfying climax that caused you to sink back into the sofa and left your sex pulsing, hot juices trickling out and coaxing Seonghwa out of his digital hiding. It was virtually impossible for him to contain himself any longer, so with a few quick changes to settings, he set an automatic interval timer, for the camera to continue capturing the intimacy, but now with him in the second starring role.

Not taking his gaze off you, Seonghwa slipped out of his Oxfords, and neatly folded his button up and trousers, while having been reduced to a miniscule tremor due to the never-ending pressure on his trapped member, which had already leaked precum onto his boxers. Another flash, and he was walking towards you, ablaze from how you studied him, so alluringly dishevelled and dedicated to him.

A real life Adonis, a mortal blessing seeking you out and yearning for your caress. His equally well shaped cock twitched as he stood off to one side of you, at an impeccable ninety degrees from the camera to capture his length and salaciousness of the scene. Having recovered from your high, you were enthusiastic to please and dropped to your knees as Seonghwa gave the member a couple of pumps. Crawling forward, you innocently opened your mouth, lolling your tongue out. A perfect picture, you knew it.

“Care to prepare me before I make you feel good, ma belle?” he did not need to ask twice.

As soon as he let his hand fall to his side, you replaced it with your own, and with the other massaged his balls, attentive to every flex of muscle, every groan he held back. Now, that was not acceptable. You wanted to hear this man say your name at least once if he truly held you in his heart. You shot him a quick look, and upon seeing that he had bit his lower lip and he was already hazy, took his tip in your mouth, circling it with your tongue and giving it a couple of light sucks. A gasp promoted your continuation, and you teased his hole while not ceasing to give his base thorough focus.

Shaken, Seonghwa could only manage a low, guttural moan as you moved to take in half of his length, still keeping up the intoxicating patterns with your tongue. He gingerly pushed a lock of hair out of your face, unable to utter anything when you gazed up with curiosity. With that, you took a quick breath, and by pulling yourself forward using Seonghwa’s legs, you took him in until the cock hit the back of your throat and caused tiny tears to well up.

“Ah- Y/N, you- mfph-” nothing had ever sounded better than this you leaned back, with only the tip remaining between your lips, and then slid back down,  speeding up as you listened to Seonghwa’s sinful vocalisations.

Feeling his member harden, you were about to pick up the pace even more, but your endeavour was cut short by Seonghwa placing his palm on your crown, and tapping you with his index finger a couple of times.

“Th-thank you, love, now I want to make you feel good.” A loud pop resounded as you removed yourself, resulting in the man fighting back a shudder. “Ah, but I don’t have-”

“I have the implant, and you don’t have to come inside.”

“Wasn’t planning to, love, I want to paint over you, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

Seonghwa sat on the chaise longue, much as he had done at the very beginning while still clothed, and reached out to take your hand and walk you to him. Only you existed to him, a realisation that turned to fact as he sped up your movements, roaming your body and helping you lower yourself onto his throbbing dick. Prior to giving him the full pleasure, however, you ran the soaked pussy lips, softened by a climax and yearning for more, across it, to coat and lubricate it with your nectar. And finally, you sank onto the member, the dizzying feeling of fullness making your walls clench around it, and Seonghwa’s nails dig into your waist.

He let you remain motionless to get used to him, and to have the camera do its magic, but was ecstatic once you rose again, and began to ride him while lazily rolling your hips. You were now moaning without inhibition, Seonghwa’s name sounding simply right. When you cried out, his cock hitting at just the right spot, he rushed to soothe you by stroking circles over your pelvis, but the concern quickly dissipated as you uttered, much to his delight:

“Seonghwa, this is so-so good…”

“You’re perfect, my love. So perfect for me.” He mumbled back, kissing your shoulder blades.

Only fate could have brought him to you, or you to him. It was as though you had been made for one another, fluid and communicating through exquisite body language. A flash. Another. A priceless collection marking yours and Seonghwa’s evolution into a divine creative partnership. Undefined by standards, understood by inspiration and artistry.

“Mm, love how you fill me up so well, Hwa, please-” the knot in your stomach continued to grow as you grinded on his dick.

“So amazing, my darling, my muse.”

Seonghwa reached over and stimulated your clit while your breathing turned shallower, and you attempted to speed up. The action proved difficult, as with your climax fast approaching, your movements became more disjointed and dysrhythmic. Clearly, they became so uncontrollable, that he decided to take matters into his own hands. Melting into his touch, you followed as he stood up, careful to keep his member inside of you, and told you to bend over, keeping your ass up in the air.

Arranging for the best angle, he checked the camera, and, once confirming that the shot was going to be ideal, inhaled and glided his length into you, progressively picking up the speed until what had been a slow exploration was now him pounding into you, skin on skin, slapping against one another. You let out the uncontainable yelps of pleasure, tuning into a higher and higher pitch until your comments were mere incoherent babble. Thoughts clouded over, you could only focus on Seonghwa and your state on the verge of orgasm.

“AH…ah… Please… Hwa… don’t stop- I’m about to-”

Your yell was interrupted by him increasing the pace to an unprecedented level, accelerating you into an unthinkable crash as you shook with your climax. The way in which you enveloped him, and how you reacted to his demands and touch was becoming too much, and a bead of sweat was threatening to roll down his face as he prayed he would not come while your pussy clenched around him, the walls mercilessly pulsating as he built himself up to his high, which came sooner rather than later, and only just in time did he manage to pull his member out, and watch as strings of cum decorated your lower back and buttocks.

You collapsed on the floor, while Seonghwa fell onto the chaise longue, the back hitting his, and the two of you silently rejoiced in a shared ideal, illuminated by the continuing flashes.

“My love?”

“Mm?” you hummed, listening to Seonghwa stepping around you and shutting off the camera, only to approach you again.

“May I pick you up? Let’s go get cleaned up.” Sleepily, you raised your arms and let him lift you up, first to stand, and next to pick you up bridal style, making you giggle. “Off to the showers we go! Oh, the benefits of having a guest room at work.” He rambled light-heartedly, pecking you on the cheek, grinning, and disappearing into a dark corridor.

For the first time in a while, you felt, as Seonghwa had said, satisfied. Nothing could be more right.

You had insisted that you still needed to go home, even though it was long past midnight. But you did promise that, on that exact morning, you were going to break the news that you were leaving your soon to be ex. Life was looking brighter, and the taxi driver had already called you and Seonghwa a couple, which both of you had actively welcomed.

“I am going to Europe. In two weeks.” The brilliant young man stated as he held your hands in his while standing by the taxi, at the entrance to your apartment building.

“Oh… uhm… where?” you tried to conceal your disappointment, failing miserably.

“Brussels.” The cheeriness in his voice confused you, but as you tried to pry yourself away and mumble a “Bon… voyage?”, he beamed and embraced you.

“Two tickets, darling. You are coming with me. And I won’t accept no for an answer.”

“Then I won’t say no. All the more motivation for me, Hwa.” You snuggled into his trench coat, memorising the aroma so it could help you last the next few hours in that damned apartment.

“Let me know how it goes, okay?” his concern did not fail to make your heart flutter, and you hugged him tighter.

“If you see me at your doorstep in these same clothes, you’ll know it went… supremely well.”

“That’s why you have your good luck collar on.” Seonghwa joked, freeing one arm to poke your leather-covered neck.

“Ha, sure. Well, I’ll be off and see you soon.”

Sharing one final kiss, you departed into what you were looking forward to no longer call your home.

Upon entry, you needed a moment to adjust to the darkness. Assuming Wooyoung was asleep, you decided against entering the bedroom and occupying the sofa. If you were to breakup, it was better to start hyping yourself up early by separating yourself. There was no emotion attached to the walls, to the rooms, to him anymore. You just wanted out. As soon as possible. There was no place for you here, not when Seonghwa was waiting.

You lied down on the couch, exhausted, and what you had assumed to be five minutes of shuteye quickly turned into a deep slumber, recounting the beautiful revelations and your destined happiness. If only the man who was blankly staring at the ceiling, felt the same way. But it was impossible to, after he had spent the entire day lost in memories of you and him, of how you had been before he had gone astray and found temporary fun.

He had prepared an elaborate dinner in an attempt to impress you, only for it to be stuffed into plastic boxes to grow cold and inedible in the refrigerator. Had grown sick with worry over your disappearances and ignorance of his emotional state. And then, the final straw. You, and him, revoltingly enamoured, sharing saliva right under his damn windows. Wooyoung had vowed, today, to change, so who had allowed you to do what he had done? Were you not better than that?

Wooyoung crept out of the bedroom to at least catch a glimpse of you, and there you were a sleeping beauty. He had never seen you smiling in your sleep before. It was because of him, wasn’t it? That bastard, stealing what was not his. Or were you just so ready to give yourself away? Were you not the epitome of loyalty, standing by Wooyoung’s side no matter what? Who gave you the right? No, this could not be. This was wrong on all levels. This was not you, this was an impostor. A possessed version of you, about to do something you would regret. How could he prevent you from leaving, he wondered, toying with the clay-cutting wire in his hands.

[genderfluid-insomniac]

Hii <3 can ı please request the dorm leaders x small breasted reader headcanons you made but with Vil,Idia and Malleus?

Hi anon! I hope you like it!

dorm leaders x small breasted reader headcanons (NSFW)

Vil

He doesn’t care about your breast size and if you’re self conscious than he will suggest to get implants (yes they do exist in this world), but after be scolded thoroughly the housewarden will move on to other options and start complimenting them in private because he’s not going to say anything suggestive in public….He does have a reputation to uphold.

You cannot convince me that this man isn’t a boobs guy, the curve of your breasts and perky nipples does something to him I swear. He’ll quickly go to a bathroom whenever he sees you wearing something that really shows your figure and chest because of the erection tightening in his pants, imagining you bare against his luxurious bed playing with yourself and now he might have to drag you into the bathroom to help him.

He’s one to immediately fix your uniform or if it’s somewhat unbuttoned then button it up right away, it may not be noticeably but Vil isn’t going to take any chances with someone else eyeing up his lover.

Vil will suggest nipple jewelry, sometimes piercings and sometimes just clips, but he has a variety of choices for you to choose from and plenty of praise about how your breasts are just the right size and shape…all for him….just for him.

Idia

This man is even shocked he’s your boyfriend and doesn’t care about what your body looks like or how big your boobs are because he loves every inch of it, stuttering out a compliment when you both are alone and would preferably have you on his lap while he’s playing games.

If you’re insecure about your small breasts and want to get implants then he’ll totally support you and if you don’t then that’s totally cool too. He will have a bright red blush across his cheeks if you talk about it either way since he’s shocked you’re bold enough to bring it up outloud and just wants you to be happy.

His pants tighten whenever he sees you wearing casual clothes that show off your chest or if you’re wearing Ignihyde’s uniform without the tie and the top unbuttoned….excuse him for a moment Idia.exe has just shut down and needs to be restarted (preferably with your help~)

Will absolutely praise your breasts if you ask him but make sure you’re both in private and give him time to speak because he’s very flustered right now.

Malleus

Another dorm leader that doesn’t care about the size and if he could stay all day taking a nap on your breasts he could and would, sighing as he snuggles deeper into your chest And tightens his arms wrapped around your waist. Since he’s already excelling in all of his classes most of the time he’ll ask you to sit next to him or on his lap and when you explain that you can’t since you’re not only in public but in class….he doesn’t get it (cue head tilting like a confused pup but dragon instead).

Will spoil you with gowns and outfits that show off your curves and chest since everyone knows you’re dating Malleus and only someone stupid would dare to flirt with his lover. The fae prince is sad when you tell him to stop buying you clothes so he just moves directly on to gems and pretty rocks, making them into necklaces that sit right on your breast bone.

Malleus has so many fantasies he’d love to reenact and not just in his mind, several of them involve you riding his cock while you sit on his lap and he can just Len you back onto his chest and fondle your boobs for however long he wants. Just let him play with your tits and he’ll be more than satisfied, squeezing and twisting your nipples to get lewd expressions from you.

He can and will cover your entire chest in hickeys/love-bites, even if no one’s going to see he’ll know they’re there and beautifully decorate your breasts.

[ms-scarletwings]

Irken senses, and other ponderings

You know, every time I start to wonder if I’ve finally run out of things to coherently say on the whole “speculating about irken biology” matter, a whole something more is induced to hatch out of the dehydrated floam inside my skull. Between you and me, I think the eggs are triggered by ironic timing.

Anywho, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the world hypothetically through Irken eyes, and other sensory organs. Think I’ll go down them piece by piece, and to follow the pattern I’ve kept through my other Irken brain dumps, I will be drawing a huge amount of inspiration from real life arthropods. Yes, I’m very aware that realistically, any resemblance to earth insects would be coincidental from an alien species, and there’s plenty of room to make up whatever somewhat plausible explanation you can for any faucet of their anatomy. Personally, I like to run from the convergent evolution angle, since I find it no less grounded, full of potential connections the show itself all but begs me to draw, and just plain fun. Let’s get into it.

Also like towards the end there’s a whole section on the hypothetical edibility of Irkens because why not

Prelude: If you want to hear a little more behind my theory about the Irken diet revolving around sugar and a small portion of minerals, you can zip onto this analysis I did, in which I touch on some ideas of mine regarding the composition of Irken skin, their reaction to meat, etc. that works from the assumption that Irkens evolved out of an arthropod-like ancestor. Not necessary to get the gist of this one, but it is background context behind my thought process.

Sight

The Irken oculus is perhaps the most striking feature of the species, very much resembling those tiny crawling things they have been inspired by; however, it’s tougher to say exactly how far the similarity of their insides go. The eyes of most arthropods are in fact along the more simple branches of the evolutionary tree. We know that Irkens are not likely to possess compound eyes, like those found in flies and most other insects, because compound eyes are specialized for wide FOV ranges at the sacrifice of visual resolution quality. Instead, I see a much closer match to a fascinating exception or two found in Earth’s arachnids.

While most of them have utterly piss-poor vision, the hunting styles of jumping spiders necessitated a great deal of further specialization of the organs for depth perception, color differentiation, and sharp images. These are the purpose of those two huge shiners at the front (the other 6 boosting their range for detecting blurry peripheral movement and threats), and these are what bring their effective vision on a level much closer to that of familiar binocular mammals than their own six legged prey. Now I really think we are working with the base of what Irken peepers likely developed out of. One of the ways they have really diverged off is in the fact that while jumping spiders can only move their retinas, irkens seem as though they are able to move the lens of the eye themselves- or at the very least, Zim does, else the false pupils in his disguise contacts would not behave quite so convincingly. To speak about the lenses themselves, their eyes are not dry and exposed like most arthropods, speaking to a vulnerable sensitivity. They clearly have blinking eyelids, shed tears, and Zim even complains about the “scratchy” feeling of getting used to that part of his kid disguise.

(Funny sidenote: I’m like 90% sure that Zim did not have those contact lenses designed correctly for himself. Usually, if contacts feel that uncomfortable and keep falling off of the eye as easily as his do, it’s a sign of them being poorly fitted. This could be another symptom of his outdated/lower quality invader tech.)

Not only do Irkens have an assumed base vision resolution that seems more or less on par with human beings, but Invader elites are fitted with ocular implants that grant them a significantly greater advantage in this realm. We don’t know to a certainty how well improved an Irken soldier’s vision is, but Zim was confidently able, within seconds and under pressure, to pick out the area of town he lived in from what was miles away under night hours.

On the topic of night vision, I have a hunch that even without the cybernetics, these guys are adapted to see much better than we in dim to dark environments as well. Most of the early part of their life cycle is lived out in subterranean crèches. On the surface, daytime Irk is cast in a sunset red atmosphere. Oddly, a massive portion of their fashion and architectural aesthetics show a preference for these dark, warmer tones. Ruby is far and away the most common eye color in their kind. All of these facts suggest that warm-spectrum hues and pigments were incredibly common in the homeworld’s history, to point of indicating something about a cultural attraction to them- kind of like how humans put the color blue all over so much corporate branding and elsewhere. Zim’s favorite color has also been revealed to be purple. Most of all, given what I’ve seen of Irk’s, Blorch’s, and Devastis’s surface skies, AND Zim’s reaction to staring directly at the sun for more than a few seconds, I’m assuming that most Irkens are wholly unfamiliar with living in an environment as brightly lit as midday Earth.

I do think Irken eyes “glow” in the dark, but not in the emitting sense. Just more in the reflective one. This they would owe to a well developed tapetum lucidum, as seen in cats and deer and pretty much any animal to give off an eerie eye shine under the right lighting. To point back to arachnids, wolf spiders are speedy nocturnal murder machines with highly developed tapetum lucida, in their secondary eyes, at least. What I love the most about that is it makes it very easy to tell if you’re looking at a mother spider because her babies will give off the same eyeshine if you take a pic of one with the flash on.

Additionally, I won’t forget that sleep is no longer a necessity for our alien subjects. This alone gives them a major edge over any dinural race such as humanity. While Zim has his appearances to keep up during the day, the nighttime on Earth is actually when he is allowed the most free rein to work on his endeavors uninterrupted.

Sound

Ah, so this is the part where I rattle off the common theories we’ve collectively formed about Irken antennae as the replacement for an external ear, eh? Yes, but actually no…. jokes aside, it’s just no. I’ll get to the deal with antennae, but as you might imagine, hearing ability also varies all over the place in the insect world.

It is true that antennae play a large role in the hearing of some critters, such as mosquitoes, whose males use them to pick out the high frequency wing beats of nearby females in a swarm. Crickets, on the other hand, use sensory organs on their legs tuned to much lower sound ranges. There’s no one way to evolutionarily put together a sort-of ear, as well proven by the sheer amount of times it convergently happened in bugs and in how many creative ways.

They literally be designing themselves like me playing around in spore. If we’re not talking about that mosquito or honeybee example, then what we are referring to as an ear and most hearing insects is going to be an external tympanic organ. Most people who have passed high school biology would be able to recognize a visible tympanum in frogs- that circular thing right behind the eyes in most species, and understand it as their version of an ear drum. Many bugs’ tympanums are likewise thin chitinous membranes situated… potentially just about anywhere on the body (again, see above). This is what I think Irkens use as a primary hearing organ, in his case, probably situated on their heads in addition to the feelers. The latter organs I think would also be sensitive to general vibrations and subtler environmental cues, like wind direction and pressure changes, but the bulk of their hearing would be owed to the tympanum.

As far as the quality of their hearing, well, there’s not any sign it differs much from the human experience. Like us, they communicate through verbal language, and the existence of the “Dancing Arcade Game (but for aliens)” confirms at least a similar cultural propensity for music as an entertainment form. Zim is an outlier for the fact that he seems genuinely a little hard of hearing next to his kin, screaming as naturally as he talks and repeatedly mishearing (if hearing at all) people who are speaking directly at him. It’s clear something’s up with his hearing, but there’s no clear answer what and why. At first I was tempted to suggest something about sound passing much differently through the medium of earth’s atmosphere (kind of like how noise on Mars would sound muffled to us), but neither Tak nor Skoodge seemed to pick up the problem when they arrived. It really could be as simple as some kind of birth defect, or even glitches in how his corrupted PAK is processing the inputs it receives. Like many others, I want to imagine that his wig could be interfering too, since it covers the whole top portion of his head; as well, I noticed he has more of those incidents with it on than not.

Smell

Alrighty, NOW we can round back to focusing on the antennae, because this is actually the main thing our insects fine tuned theirs for. And when I say fine tuned- I mean fine tuned. Blood suckers that find their prey through the CO2 of their breath, flies that can pick up on potential food sources from miles away; In the land of the little, scent is everything. Beyond it being their main tool for exploring the environment for what to eat and what to avoid, chemical messages are the backbone of bug-to-bug communication. Pheromones are the divining rod of lonely spiders looking for a mate. They are the bugle of yellow jackets when rallying the nest to attack a threat, and they are the signals that govern about every single action an ant takes from adulthood until death. Obviously, Irkens are much more sight & hearing dependent than these comparisons, but they still have much more bodily specialization dedicated to this sense than we can relate to. For one, they are fastidiously hygienic. Like, “the care-bots from that really creepy episode of the Buzz lightyear cartoon” hygienic. We have yet to see any livable surface of Irk that is not sky to underground terraformed over in all-consuming metal infrastructure. There’s less than no sign of visible life besides the Irkens; ffs, there’s not even soil in sight. Not on Devastis, either. The Organic Sweep sounds like such a nice and pretty euphemism in the face of the actual horror of Blorch’s fate, and all to spare the boots of their military from touching even a speck of “unsavory alien filth”. They live in such a controlled and purified environment that I can’t even imagine the absolute assault on the senses Zim’s every day on our barbaric ball of dirt is. Over and over again he gives off the impression that the constant stink of this place is in fact his chief complaint about living among us. The majority of insults he throws toward humans relate to how they smell or the fact that he finds them “filthy”. We’re flat out nasty to him and I don’t blame him. Even relative to other animals, humans are especially RANK due to the combination of sweat, oils, and bacteria that coat our skin.

And believe it or not, I do think Irkens are in a position to talk shit in this regard. Zim is a really sweaty boi; however, I posed an idea back in that write up about Irken skin before- to summarize- that his kind maintain remarkably sterile cuticles due to the presence of a toxic chemical in their skin. This, I said then, could have been the key to Zim’s lice repelling trait, but I wasn’t so specific at the time about more than that. I got the idea from a group of millipedes that, when disturbed, can secrete hydrogen cyanide as a deterrent to predators. I like to imagine that Irkens can do a similar thing via sweating, not to thermoregulate like us, but as a stress response. It would at least explain why Zim seems like a very nervous sweater. Fun fact if you didn’t know, cyanide’s smell is similar to almonds.

I’m deadass telling you I think Irkens just smell like almond extract. Do with that what you will.

Touch

So, in writing this whole whatever it be, this part was the trickiest to come up with any productive analysis on. I’ve already guessed at what I think Irken skin feels most like (spoiler: hairless caterpillars) in the analysis I referenced up top. Zim being able to pass himself off as a human under the examination of the Skool nurse points to an average body temperature somewhere around our own. What I did find interesting while rewatching the series though was the sheer amount of pain tolerance on these invaders, except in one way. Can I extrapolate this fortitude to Irkens universally? Probably not! Zim is a member of the most elite of the most highly trained members of Irk’s military. I wouldn’t take what a seasoned veteran can handle and assume that’s the human floor in a nutshell, but our invaders CAN tell us quite a bit about their ceiling… starting with the fact that these bastards are ridiculously heat resistant. Irkens are a durable race broadly, but their reactions to extreme temperatures strike me as jaw-droppingly underwhelming, if anything.

Irkens DON’T like being engulfed in flames. It’s still a painful experience to them, but seemingly the kind they can pretty much walk off as soon as it’s over. Through explosions and fire we have seen Zim (and Skoodge) survive in one piece. We’ve seen The Massive take a whole dip into a burning star with no ill effects to the crew within. Most amazing to me was the time in Battle of the Planets when Zim willingly piloted Mars into grazing by the Sun at close range while trying to evade Dib. Totally exposed driver’s seat and he was no worse for wear after this.

Further in the comics we see this touched on in the Zimvoid arc. Zib’s favorite method of torturing the Zims under his training program was to torch them at random for sadistic amusement. Quite interestingly, though, Number 2 implies that their bodies do actually adapt to this treatment over time! Theoretically, Zims further along in the program have become all but invulnerable to fire entirely.

On the other hand, one of the truly most painful things Zim has been shown to experience is to have his skin chemically burned. It’s a strange sort of irony that Earth’s water would prove to be an incapacitating force to them in place of any inferno. He’ll smash his skull into the Voot’s windshield with enough force to pop out an eyeball and it’s whatever. Plenty of other things hurt, but he can power through. You turn a shaken can of soda or a bottle of bbq sauce on him and he’s just left screaming on the ground or screaming and running away. Whatever brutal sort of training he had to go through off world, it didn’t prepare him for this.

Taste

The perceptive side of this I think may not be too hard to figure out. Irken food, as alien as its actual composition could be, has been shown to be heavily analogous to human junk food. I hesitate to call what Irkens are scarfing down “meals” in the proper sense, because I’ve noticed that neither Zim nor his kin intrinsically understand the concept. When he’s trying to blend in as a human being, he puts a LOT of bizarre effort into convincing us that he, just like you inferior creatures, TOTALLY eats “food” on a regular basis like a normal person. When Irkens eat their own products, it’s all and only “snacks”. What follows is the conclusion that their eating habits are not structured into any schedule and that Irkens instead graze throughout the day as they please- and even possibly that eating altogether is more a recreation to them, instead of a necessary function to sustain life. Some fans have speculated that the PAK could provide an Irken with all of the necessary energy to survive absent of nutrition. I kind of want to contest this, given that caloric energy is only one purpose of taking in food… but it’s definitely the most immediate one. Nonetheless, they still eat constantly on screen and it all has to be going somewhere. Whether they need it or not, they still readily digest snacks (and presumably use those chemical building blocks to regenerate tissue damage) with a terrifying metabolic efficiency. Assuming that the resemblance of their snack foods and our leisure treats are not purely coincidental, one gathers that sweetness is the largest dimension of Irken cuisine. They are drawn most enthusiastically to carb-dense synthetic, plant, and possibly fungal matter in the same way that the human brain lights up at the prospect of fat and sugar-loaded meals. The flexible tongues of Irkens to me also resemble the nectar catching, segmented mouthparts of some bees. I would be willing to bet that they can taste salt, but jury’s out if it is something they crave, like us, or are repulsed by, like ants. That would have to come down to the scarcity (or not) of the resource on their home planet and whether or not desiccation was a serious threat in their natural history. In other regards, Zim shows strong negative reactions to most Earth foods, if not physically, than in his expressions. They definitely have powerful vulnerabilities to many human ingredients, and so are very sensitive to the presence of these toxins. I can’t imagine acidic or bitter substances are at all pleasant to them.

Now comes the much more interesting question I’ve thought way too long and hard about in the shower a time or two. Knowing that Irkens are likely a herbivorous breed, ergo, thankfully would have no interest in the consumption of the human race… what about the vise versa??? I don’t just want to know what they taste, but what would they taste like?

So, you’ve decided to mix it up for the thanksgiving dinner and forgo the same boring old bird for an Irken you have vanquished (via what I can only imagine was a freaking miracle of luck). What should you come to expect? Most importantly and I must emphasize this, the secret to preparing their meat is the same as Tolkien dwarves, you have to skin them before anything else. The separation of edible tissues from the cuticle is necessary to avoid ingesting the defensive toxins it contains. Even if the concentration is not enough to provide a danger to you, it could end up contributing an unpleasant, bitter flavor to the final product.

That done, discard the head and digestive organs. True as it may be that Irkens are wholly free of parasites, with a chance that the viscera could be edible, it’s not likely to taste that great and besides, do you really want to take chances with exposing yourself to an entirely foreign gut biome you have no immune adaptations to? And don’t even think about the brain- I don’t care how rare the infection rates are, alien prions are a big no. If you happen to run into any cybernetic implants during the cleaning, however, set them aside! They could be worth a small fortune in the right circles. But, for the purpose of eating we’re really concerned with the muscle tissues, a delicate white meat with a texture similar to fresh crab. The bones need not be wasted, and are fine to leave in, or can be boiled on their own to make a flavorful stock which can be added to soups or a delightful gravy. A surprisingly practical use of Irken bone could also be in the compost bin, being rich in chitosan and other powerful garden fertilizers. The flesh can do well fried, or roasted to a crispy exterior. The oven rule is the same as chicken, low and slow, to prevent drying out. Don’t be afraid to experiment with the gravy idea or marinades. The flavor profile of the meat itself would be utterly unique from what most of us are used to, comparable to a nutty crayfish. Savory, a bit of a sweetness, and a mineral hint that pairs quite well with mushrooms or rice.

I can’t recommend serving this to any guests with shellfish allergies in good conscience. If they insist, do so in caution and with knowledge of the risk of cross reactivity.

And there you have …. certainly a thing I did write and queue up for y’all!

[drchameensamarawickrama]

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[deedala]

☀️ weekly 🌴 tag 🌴 wednesday 🌊

hello it is thursday!! not wednesday, alas, we persist. big thanks to a one lil miss ✨🌟🌙 @celestialmickey ✨🌟🌙 !!!! for writing this weeks game and for tagging me!! + @gallapiech @blue-disco-lights @heymrspatel @jrooc @mmmichyyy @too-schoolforcool @lingy910y @crossmydna @energievie @palepinkgoat 💖💖💖

name: deanna 🌱

pronouns: she/her

what year did you graduate high school? lets play a game actually, what do you think? did i graduate in 1998, 2002, or 2006?

tell me where you live without *telling* me where you live: woody harrelson and i know the same amusement park like the back of our respective hands

tell me what you do for work: digital coloring book

caffeine source of choice: brew my own hot coffee in which i pour oatmilk and french vanilla dairy-free creamer

do you have a skincare routine? super sensitive skin, had to do accutane in my 20s *and* back in 2019. dermatologist has me on a very strict routine of gentle salicylic acid facewash and oil-free fragrance-free sensitive-skin formulated facial moisturizer. nothing else allowed!!

how often do you do laundry? every single fucking day of life and if i dont i will be overcome and i will suffer

favorite flower: poppies!! (iykyk) but dandelions are a close second

your go-to karaoke song: i've never gotten to do karaoake for reals but i think it would be an absolute blast (and hysterically cringey) to sing wuthering heights by kate bush!!

what kind of phone do you have? mint green iphone 12

do you wear contacts/glasses? i wear a single contact lens because i had to have a bunch of surgery in my left eye in my 20s and one of them involved replacing my lens with an implant (hi im bionic, i have a serial number) that is a corrective lens giving me 20/20 vision (apart from the blind spots where my retina is destroyed) SOOOO i literally can only wear that one contact lens in my right eye to fix my (extremely bad) vision on that side. glasses dont work when you've got 20/20 in one eyeball and -7.25 in the other.

what color is your hair right now? its a 10

you’ve just been handed $10,000 cash, what are you spending it on? theres a lot of shit in my house that needs to be fixed. or maybe we can use it as a down payment for buying a new house? (probably not the market is so insane in my city because of the university and the landlords) but i guess...in fantasy world where this happens...yeah we use it to help ourselves buy a new house lol.

how many pets do you have? none

have you ever been on a train? many many trains! some in america, most of them in europe

and finally, tell me something about yourself people might be surprised to know: god im so uninteresting... i love olives and pickles and cilantro and mint but not garlic and i cannot taste spicy things (i deeply wish i could, ive tried so many times and all i get is like bitter charcoal numb tongue)

and now i'll tag some folks under the cut who maybe?? havent played yet?? maybe want to play????? if not consider this me handing you a dandelion + poppy 💐 under the cut!!

@darlingian @spookygingerr @mybrainismelted @creepkinginc @suzy-queued

@sleepyheadgallavich @thepupperino @iansw0rld @gardenerian @ardent-fox

@catgrassplantdad @whatwouldmickeydo @gallawitchxx @wehangout @captainjowl

@the-rat-wins @loftec @spoonfulstar @callivich @sam-loves-seb

@howlinchickhowl @rereadanon @softmick @burninface @sickness-health-all-that-shit

@sleepyfacetoughguy @transmickey @lee-ow @themarchg1rl @vintagelacerosette

@xninetiestrendx @michellemisfit @steorie @samantitheos

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[healingtoucheyecenter]

ICL Surgery in Delhi is Revolutionizing Vision Correction

An Implantable Collamer lens (ICL) procedure is the latest surgical procedure used for enhancing vision with artificial lenses. Delhi, known for its world-class medical facilities, has witnessed a sudden surge in the popularity of ICL surgery. With an increasing people’s demand for alternatives to glasses and contact lenses, The Healing Touch Eye Centre embraced this advanced surgical procedure called ICL Surgery in Delhi. our experienced and skilled ophthalmic surgeons are using state-of-the-art technology to ensure precision and optimal outcomes for our patients. 

What is ICL Surgery

During the procedure, the biocompatible lenses are sized, measured and positioned between the coloured iris and its lens, directly behind the iris. Most often, an ICL surgery is used to cure moderate to severe myopia, often referred to as astigmatism, farsightedness, or nearsightedness. This surgery does not involve the removal of the natural lens, but the implantation of an artificial one inside the eye. ICL (Implant Contact Lens) delivers permanent, convenient and non-invasive correction, with all the advantages of fast recovery and easy reversal in the event of any future adjustments.

How ICL surgery performed at the Healing Touch Eye Centre  

The Implantable Collamer Lens Surgery is a highly effective procedure and it is exclusively available in our hospital premises. 

The patient will first have a peripheral iridotomy using a laser.

To make sure the iris has adequate fluid flow following ICL, two tiny holes are made around its circumference. This is a painless treatment.

Then we use eye drops to numb the eyes and dilate the pupils. 

Through a 3 mm incision at the base of the cornea, and then the folded lens will be placed behind the iris. 

After that, the professional will place the biocompatible lenses into the eye in the correct location. And then the lubricant is removed.

Then ointments are placed inside the eye to avoid itchiness and dryness.

And the yes is covered with the protective shield.

Since the incision is tiny, you don’t need stitches as it will heal naturally. While it usually takes two to three days to have better eyesight following surgery, many patients will have improved vision in 2 to 3 hours right after surgery. We provide eye drops and post-care instructions patients must follow for proper and fast healing and to prevent infection.

Advantages of Choosing Healing Touch Eye Centre for ICL eye surgery in Delhi: -

The Healing Touch Eye Centre most prominent and trusted hospital for ICL surgery in Janakpuri. our team makes best efforts to meet the demands of our patients. We believe every eye is different. hence after a thorough eye test and transparent conversation with the patient, we create a customized treatment plan. You may count on our skilled and committed medical and non-medical team to give our patients comprehensive treatment.  

The Healing Touch Eye Centre is equipped with the most advanced treatment tools and technologies.

We are the team of the most experienced and skilled surgeons, medical and non-medical workers.

We have a special team for ICL surgery in Delhi.

From providing eye tests, contact lenses and glasses to all kin of medication and surgery everything is available under one roof.

Our team offers complete support and assistance to the patient throughout the treatment procedure.

We also assist our patients through legal paperwork in the hospital.

Our experts will guide you through recovery plans, follow-up appointment plans and nutrition plans. Without any extra charges.

Healing Touch Eye Centre most Cost-effective ICL surgery in Vikaspuri.

To guarantee that the patient has a hassle-free experience, we uphold a high level and quality of medical treatment. So contact the experts of the Healing Touch Eye Centre for reliable ICL eye surgery in Delhi and other eye care services.

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

RECOMe again?

The reader must navigate interacting with their fellow recoms despite having betrayed them as a human! Does anyone know their secret?

A shorter one to get us started!

This is a multiship fic be prepared to get passed around a lil :3c

Chapter 1

Notes: Y/N (Your name), Y/LN (Your last name), na'vi dialogue in bold, fic will contain swearing, nsfw scenes in later chapters (I will warn specifically which ones), violence.

If there are any specific triggers people would like warned for let me know (^・ω・^ )

Tag list: @buzzing-honeybee

Everything seemed off when you peeled your eyes open. Beside the stinging and slight blur from the overhead light, something wasn't right. The ceiling seemed closer and almost bowed? Like a fish eye lens but subtler. When the two doctors hovered over, their voices too distant to distinguish words, they felt somehow far way, despite how close close presence felt.

You groaned trying to sit upright, you felt their... finger tips? The pressure pushing you down felt so small, isolated to tiny spots on your abdomen. You looked down and felt your world shift. Tiny hands, these doctors where absolutely tiny. You felt a sudden flush of embarrassment, like when you'd accidentally told your friend Jake Sully to 'get it himself' when the item in question was on the top shelf. Only these doctors weren't just short or people with dwarfism.

It only really made sense when your vision finally cleared enough for you to see your reflection in the mirror that covered the length of the room. You stared, unwilling to move from the bed, both doctors attention now shifted elsewhere in the room.

Yup. There it was. Your features distorted across a na'vi face. You felt suddenly off, sick, it felt like you'd been stretched out. Your arms and legs long and thin, your torso pulled like taffy, stretched into this new shape. You'd certainly had your fair share of image issues growing up but this was a new level of body horror. As your anxiety grew you heard a thumping at your hip and adding to your horror you saw your tail. You let out a squeak, feeling your new ears twitch.

You remembered it now. You'd gone down to the lab with several other important members of the military team. You'd played along, Max assuring you the whole time that this wouldn't blow your cover, that he'd take care of everything. You thought he'd meant destroying your file somehow so that the RDA would never figure it out.

You'd turned sides, helped them escape and agreed to pass on in-tell from the inside. You remembered all of this and were terrified at how much the RDA knew. You cast your mind back but at no point in the process had anyone really explained how they went about the memory implanting. Had anyone reviewed your memories? Maybe not, it'd surely be a long and wasted task to go through that with everyone's memories? Though if they'd ever suspected you, maybe they'd make that effort.

You realized that Zdinarsik was having something of a melt down at the other side of the room. This was buying you a lot of thinking time. You really couldn't remember anything further then the spinning tube, which made sense. It really dawned on you then, you were a copy, a half clone of Y/N mixed with Na'vi DNA. The real you was dead. You wondered how it'd happened, had someone found you out and put you down. Maybe even Zdinarsik, you cast worried eyes to her. She was hyperventilating but seemed to be calming down, she made eye contact, smiling shakily at you. You supposed for now it didn't matter, she was a copy too, none of the clones here would remember if anything had happened after that day. You smiled back, your lip catching your fangs and nipping the flesh open.

..............................................................................................................................

You were brought through into a locker room with a now put together Zdinarsik. Three others were already in the room, changing into their military issued clothing.

"Think I might have gone up a few sizes now eh Y/N?" Zdog knocked into your elbow. She'd definitely collected herself somewhat but her smile hadn't reached her eyes yet. You grinned back, she'd been a friend before your betrayal, though in her mind this likely had never changed.

"Really? I think I've slimmed down somewhat." You sucked your cheeks in, posing dramatically. Zdog's laughter was joined by the others who'd shifted over to greet you two.

"Wow Y/N? Zdog? Gonna need name stickers at this rate." It took you a moment to recognize Fike but something in his smile made it click.

"Dunno Fike, I'd know that big bald head anywhere!" You shouted over to Lyle Wainfleet, his head whipped up, huge grin plastered to it. He stalked over leaning down to your face.

"All those height genes and they still barely got you past 6ft huh?" You gently pushed his arm, exaggerating a frown.

"How dare you! I'll have you know they measured me in at 8'2!"

"Still over a foot shorter! Midget! Come on, they want us all in when they wake the Colonel." You all saluted, before you and Zdog went to your lockers.

Colonel Miles Quartich. You'd hoped you'd have seen the last of him but fate really had it in for you. Brought back in enemy territory, surrounded by your past and with little idea when the other shoe would drop. You'd had a terrible plan to get some time away from him, time to deliver intel to Jake and the others. It was going to be extremely embarrassing but highly effective, you were somewhat glad you didn't remember how it had gone down.

See since your first days at RDA you'd had something of a strange relationship with the Colonel. Having made quite an impression by first tripping and falling right into him, causing him to have to catch you and then shooting down a viperwolf in the field that had jumped your group. You'd become something of a favourite of his and in those early days that'd only made your little crush on the man grow. It was a silly thing, he was about 25 years your senior at the time but you'd by lying if you said you didn't find him incredibly attractive. Too bad life had pulled you both in very different directions. You spent more and more time with the scientists you'd been escorting and had come to really love the forest that surrounded you. When Jake and the others had finally gone too far and got locked up, it only felt right to help them and when Jake asked you to stay you couldn't refuse.

So you'd planned to 'confess' to the Colonel. It was a ruse, he'd let you down or maybe even call for your dismissal. Either way you could use your broken heart or leave to excuse yourself from duty and run off to assist Norm and Jake.

You wondered how it'd worked, or if you'd even gone through with the plan, as you dressed. You ended up asking for Zdog's help as you'd tangled your tail up down a trouser leg and were having some trouble getting it through the tail hole. She laughed at you, showing off how she'd managed just fine. She came forward regardless, gripping your hips to still you there. She popped her bubble gum in your face smirking as she gripped the base of your tail and tugged. You hissed, Jake had told you they were sensitive.

"Ow!" You complained, pouting up at her. She'd been taller than you before and still had more than half a foot on you.

"Don't be such a baby, see all sorted." She took a step back watching as you swished your tail.

"This is so weird." You couldn't get used to it. You felt like you never would, like a whole extra limb with a mind of its own. Norm and Jake had both talked to you about what it'd been like, entering their new bodies for the first time. Both had been ecstatic, loving every new experience they'd had, though you supposed they had wanted this. You'd never planned for this.

"Yeah you said it, come one we're late!" Zdog touched your arm, gesturing you to jog after her. You weren't late, the Colonel was still unconscious as you joined Wainfleet, Fisk and now Prager in the room. The doctors administered something into his IV drip and he began to stir.

It was strange seeing him like this. You hadn't really noticed with the others but you were all younger now. You must have all been grown around the same time during the trip out. So Quaritch now looked closer to his mid twenties. You admitted to yourself he looked good, even with the more Na'vi features.

You were too lost in your admiring to really catch what happened. Lyle had come forward as he woke and it kicked off from there. Quaritch swung knocking him onto his ass as the rest of you rushed forward. Wainfleet recollected himself and began ushering the doctors out the room. Quaritch dropped Prager and threw something at Zdog.

"Sir please! Colonel." You stepped forward with your hands raised, trying to calm him down. He struck you across the cheek, flinging you back against the mirrored wall. Your head hit it and you stayed dazed on the floor as the rest of the team struggled to restrain him. He continued to fight them off, hissing and backing up before they managed to finally still him. He recognized Lyle first, who smiled through bloodied lips, before looking shocked at the others who restrained him.

"I'm alright" he drawled out. They let him go and he began to examine himself, pushing past Wainfleet to look in the mirror. He stood above you, baring his teeth and touching his fangs. You felt your heart race at his towering form.

"Well, ain't this a bitch." At this moment he noticed you, still dazed on the floor. "Private Y/LN?" You offered a weak salute, he reached down pulling you up by your elbows. You caught your reflection, he'd cracked you pretty good, your nose was bleeding and some swelling was already forming under your left you. You let out a light chuckled turning to your commanding officer.

"I'd say those motor control tests are obsolete, Sir." Quaritch straightened, dropping his hands. Had he been reaching for you again? A doctor returned now, with another officer who commanded your unit to follow.

..............................................................................................................................

If being awoken into a new body wasn't strange enough, now you had to endure the last week of space travel. The zero gravity had always turned your stomach, even the novelty of floating around the room wore off and you were happy to be called into the areas of the ship with working gravity. You watched the video log provided, a short clip of your human self explaining the Recombinant program and soul drive to you, shortly after having exited the machine. It was odd to watch, these clips were past the memories you had, this you was a different you now. It hurt your head to think about it, you focused on her expressions instead. She seemed calm, collected, you were still in the clear here.

Every time you were called upon or came face to face with higher ups you were sure it was all gonna be over. You'd be found out, it was only a matter of when.

To add to your anxiety you'd been made to join the others in a na'vi physiology 101 course. Tail and ear reflexes, body language reading, don't touch your queue and worst of the worst new instincts. You felt 13 again and were flushing like it was sex ed. You kept face by joking with Zdog and Prager, giggling in the back about how these animal instincts were gonna take over. Prager doing a werewolf impersonation that ended with you all being scowled at by an exasperated scientist.

It was true what she'd said however. You'd began noticing the scents of your colleagues, tiny little changes in their smells that you were sure you'd figure out the meaning behind. You feared what this would mean for your cover, you'd been a decent liar as a human. You were sharp, could stick to your story and didn't crack under pressure. Now however you had to worry about your ears and tail giving you away.

You figured you could lightly test it, come up with a little scenario to lie in to see if you could get away with it. Opportunity struck the day before you reached Pandora. Mansk had requested sunglasses be added to his regular kit and it had been approved. He however was in the gym with the others when they arrived, giving you an opportunity to hide them. It needed to be a little inconsequential prank, something the others wouldn't think much of if uncovered but that could be played off as an accident if not.

You sat relaxed on a bench, you'd found that your tail followed you breathing. If you could keep a handle on that then the tail wouldn't thrash around. So it stayed still when the group entered from the showers and headed to their respective lockers. You continued pretending to read as you kept an eye on Mansk. He'd been expecting them and was told they'd be there by now, so when his locker remained empty he grumbled. He turned seeing you and began coming over. Perfect, you thought. You looked up when he got close, you'd positioned yourself where you could catch your reflection in a long locker mirror. Your ears had perked up at his approach but this was normal.

"You see anyone come in with a package?" He asked, his tone wasn't accusatory yet just curious.

"Nope, been here most the day." You lied. You kept eyes on him, feeling for any changes. Nothing in the tail and ears felt relaxed. He grumbled kicking his feet.

"You sure." He looked at you again. You felt the slightest twitch of your ear, pulling back a touch.

"Nope, maybe I missed 'em but I don't remember anyone." You kept your face neutral, uninterested. You tail felt tight, the muscles straining to twitch but you kept it still. Mansk just grumbled again before stalking back to get his clothes. You glanced to the mirror, you looked calm, no swishing or twitching. It worked, if you would maintain calm like before then there would be no tell.

You stood to leave, turning and bumping right into a broad wet chest. You glanced up to meet Quaritch's quirked eyebrow.

"Oh, uh sorry sir!" You felt your ears pin back now, tail swishing behind you. You were not calm anymore, your heart having jumped its way into your throat.

"At ease" Quaritch stepped around you, walking off to his own locker. His broad back dripping, you followed a trail down to his narrow hips and gulped. There was an odd musk to the room now and you decided it best to scamper off before your odd behavior could be remarked upon.

..............................................................................................................................

So it seemed being snapped back in age and given a new body had reignited something of your old crush. Even in your human memories you'd remained nervous in front of the guy, so maybe you'd just been lying to yourself about being over it.

Even now sat amongst the other recoms awaiting Quaritch's commands you felt on edge. Though you could easily blame that on the tension of being caught. Maybe this was the moment, he'd been informed of your past self's crimes and they were going to rip you limb from limb.

His speech mirrored the one he'd given on your first day on Pandora. While they might not have been about to tear you apart you still felt your face pale, though you kept your expression neutral. You were all here to hunt down and kill Jake Sully, along with any other rebels and former RDA. So you were technically on the kill list.

The others cheered, clapping shoulders and getting excited. You smelt the change in the air, you recognized this scent change now, anticipation/excitement. You were still working on a catalogue of these, they'd be invaluable tells if you could pin point them.

Zdog gripped you, her scent was especially strong, mixed with something else. A musky smell you'd caught on her before, though you still couldn't place it yet. You gripped her other hand, playing along with the team, hoping no one else was picking up the scents as well as you. You must reek of anxiety.

[somethingsomethingdgronpa]

what's the weirdest/creepiest fact you know?

There’s a surgery known as Tooth in eye surgery or Osteo-odonto-keraprosthesis (try saying that five times as fast) which has a doctor make a lens from a tooth and place it in the cheek for months. After the tooth lens is taken out, it is then implanted into the eye.

It gives people with partial vision loss the gift of sight, but the eye after the surgery looks absolutely horrifying! It looks like the person has been hypnotized by some supernatural being, but only in that one eye.