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solarisensun · 2 years

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Picture Perfect (1)

yandere Gojo Satoru + Geto Suguru x f!reader

-guess who’s back 😗 (sorry for the odd spacing again ugh)

For some odd reason, you always feel like you are being watched

Warnings: yandere themes, implied drugging +photography, alcohol consumption, NSFW

It’s bright.

Even with your eyelids stuttered close, the harsh blinding light shines through them until your head pounds painfully.

Is the room spinning? Or is it just your head that’s tilting on its own axis?

You open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out of your mouth. It feels as if someone had stuffed your brain with cotton. Why is it so bright? You want to ask. Everything seems distorted and muffled. It almost feels as if you are sinking underwater.

The final thing you manage to register is a slow, deep chuckle like warm velvet and the gentle brush of fingertips against your cheek before your head lolls to the side and…

nothing.

You almost feel glad that the light is gone.

—

You always feel like you’re being watched whenever you step into the building.

Both figuratively and literally.

There’s always people bustling about within the building. And familiar smiles are thrown your way when you make your way past the glass sliding doors. “Morning, Miss,” the security guard nods at you from his post and you return his greeting with one of your own. The pretty receptionist at the table gives you a wiggle of her hands before her attention is drawn back to her phone, presumably entertaining another client.

Things are never really quiet here in Tokyo’s largest modeling agency.

And in every corner of this sleek, modern building, the sight of security cameras were not uncommon.

Still, there is this unshakable feeling that lingers on the nape of your neck every single time you step foot within this vicinity. Almost unconsciously, your left hand finds its way to your neck whilst your right hand tightens its grip around your iced coffee. It almost feels as if there is a ghostly presence breathing down your back as a shudder skitters down your spine.

It isn’t until the other staff give you an odd look for loitering in the lobby whilst stock-still when you take a deep inhale to regain your senses.

Perhaps you need to take a break to fix your sleep schedule.

Last night had been another oddly restless night. Oftentimes, you’ve woken up with a pounding headache and constant nightmares that left you feeling disorientated. Even your makeup artist had commented on the increased amount of concealer she needed to use recently to cover up your dark eye circles.

It doesn’t help that you’ve had butterflies fluttering around your stomach ever since your manager informed you of the shoot that you were having today with none other than Gojo Satoru, arguably the man that has the entirety of Japan falling over their feet with a mere glimpse of his picture-perfect face on magazine covers. Though there was no doubt that his beauty was as notorious as his reputation as a bachelor. It wasn’t him that you were worried about. It was the sheer size of the project, probably one of your agency’s biggest projects to date. Unlike Gojo, who had his name already firmly cemented in the modeling industry, this project would give you the chance to do the same too.

And to make matters worse, the photographer for today’s shoot-

Too caught up in your own thoughts, you nearly run face-first into someone else, barely avoiding getting your coffee all over his black shirt.

“Oh,” you blurt out in panic, “I’m so sorry! Please forgive me for not paying attention to my-”

“It’s all right.” His voice, albeit low and cordial, has not an inch of warmth in them. Dark eyes meet yours when you lift your head. Smooth obsidians greet your gaze, and almost immediately, prickles of fear explode across your skin. There’s something, something in his empty eyes that makes you take a step back like a startled rabbit.

Maybe it’s the way his figure looms over your hunched figure.

Before you can take another step away, the feeling of a large hand propped on your waist has you coming to an abrupt halt. All five of his fingers are curled around your waist; it almost feels as if he might break you in two if he squeezed too hard.

“Geto-san,” you mumble when realization crashes across your shoulders. You’ve never seen him in real life before. Though his photography works were renowned, the reclusive photographer has never once accepted interviews nor allowed for his picture to be taken. The only reason you recognize him is the fact that you’ve caught a glimpse of his face once or twice when he had projects occurring in this building. Nevertheless, his face is not one that many would forget. Up close, you can see the clean, unbroken lines of his haughty cheekbones and a strong jaw. His hair is pulled up into a messy bun; there’s something elegantly unsettling about the way he carries himself.

And a small part of you feels almost bad for judging this man but for some reason, it almost feels difficult to breathe in his presence alone.

The ghost of a smile touches his lips, curling them barely upwards. Though it doesn’t exactly look genuine. “I believe we are well-acquainted.” The darkness in his eyes is stark against his pale skin. “You must be the model having a shoot with me later.” He withdraws his hand. “Do be careful the next time you are walking around. You wouldn’t want to get some nasty bruises.”

“Ah,” you breathe out, proud that your voice doesn’t waver. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Geto-san. Please take good care of me later.”

Now that the initial shock has worn off, your fraying nerves have somewhat cooled down enough that you can look him in the eye without being overcome by the feeling that you want to bolt and get as far away from him as possible.

Geto blinks slowly, his face is as impassive as smooth marble.

“Of course.”

—

Your arched brows draw together, the studio lights, glints off the silver headband wound in your hair to hold the elaborate braids in place. Once again, your stylist has outdone herself with her choice of styling today. Yet, the longer you linger under the harsh lights, the pounding in your head seems to worsen with each passing second. It’s gotten to the point where you can almost feel your migraine splitting your poor head in half. s

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you rest your cheek against the cool table, careful not to mess up the hours that your stylist had put into your hair.

Maybe if you close your eyes for a moment everything will calm down.

Even with your eyes shut, the sensation that something, someone is watching you never really dissipates. God, it almost feels like the omnipresent presence is practically looming over your shoulder. You could almost imagine it’s ghostly hands wrapped around your neck, tightening with each slow thud of your heart

Though you knew that if you turned around, there was nothing more but a lone security camera in the far corner.

You really need a break after this.

Preferably, somewhere quiet, and peaceful, and where it isn't so bloody bright.

“Are you all right?”

You jerk up so fast that your head nearly collides against Gojo’s.

“Gojo-san,” you gasp, trying to calm the thunderous heartbeat in your chest. “Don’t sneak up on me like that, please.” You hadn’t even heard him open the door.

“My bad.” He raises his arms up in defeat. “But I was genuinely worried. You know you looked like you died? Laying on the table all lifeless like that.” For once, your mischievous co-worker looks genuinely concerned, and it almost takes you by surprise. You've gotten too used to never taking his words seriously due to the mirth that glistens in his eyes.

You give him a weak smile, massaging your temples as you reply, “I’m all right. It’s just that I’ve been having trouble sleeping recently. All those sleepless nights are really taking a toll on me.”

He clicks his tongue in response. “After this, we are going for drinks, all right? The three of us, together. You need to loosen up.”

“The three of us?” A frown pinches your brows together.

“Me, you and Suguru of course!” he replies.

“Geto-san?”

“Who else?” Gojo gives you a funny look. You’ve always known that the duo had a history that went way back, but why would he ask you along? To say that you and Gojo were friends would be a stretch. Your conversation with him had never extended past your work life, and you aren’t exactly sure you want him into your personal life as well. After all, you’ve always prided yourself in keeping your reputation squeaky clean.

Gojo, on the other hand, seemed to take delight in gracing the tabloid covers with his extravagant spending and many sexual exploits.

“I don’t think-”

“Come on now,” Gojo whines as he stands over you, both his arms boxing you in perfectly. “When are you going to see me as more than your co-worker?” The sheer intensity burning in his bright crystalline blues make you avert your gaze. “I’m an excellent friend. You know that?”

You level him with an even stare, utterly unfazed by his close proximity. Gojo had always been handsier than most. “We both know you’re a horrible drinker. I don’t want to be hauling your ass back home when you can barely walk.”

Instead of denying, Gojo merely grins as he lowers his head even closer to your face. “I won’t drink.” A thoughtful look flickers over his pristine features before he adds, “And I’m not letting you out of this room until you say yes.”

“Gojo-san!”

“Come on. I promise you, you’ll sleep like the dead if you just go out with me- us, tonight.”

You knock his arm away from the side of your head and step away. “Fine. But only just this once.”

The wide smirk that grows on Gojo’s face almost makes you regret your reply.

“But I’m not exactly acquainted with Geto-san,” you confess, “I wouldn’t want to make things awkward. I know how close the two of you are.” The mere mention of his name and the way his bottomless gaze studied you makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

Gojo waves his hand airily. “Nonsense! Suguru warms up fast when you get to know him.” He gives you a wink as he slings his arm around your shoulders, nearly knocking you forward in the process. “Trust me, he’s all bark and no bite.”

The moment the weight of his arm is around your shoulder, the room seems to blur before your eyes.

White light.

The click of a camera.

Fingers brushing your hair away from your cheek.

A warm body, pressed against yours.

You stumble, pitching forward bonelessly and your face nearly hits the floor until Gojo wraps his hand around your arm and yanks you back to your feet.

“Woah.” In a smooth motion, he pulls you into his embrace. The smell of expensive cologne muddles your senses even further.

“You all right?”

“I-“ Words seem to fail you. So, you brace your palms against his chest and take a shuddering breath in. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. Just give me a moment please.”

You squeeze your eyes shut until the room doesn’t feel like it’s rotating in dizzying circles anymore. And finally, you open your eyes to see Gojo’s worried-filled face swimming in your blurry vision.

“Are you sure? I don’t think you should work in this state,” Gojo tells you in earnest. “I can always inform Geto and we can reschedule our shoot for another day.”

“No!” You cry out a little too loudly. “I- I mean, it’s all right. I don’t want to mess things up. It’s just my sleepless nights catching up to me.” You parrot again in a calmer tone.

Suddenly, Gojo’s invitation to drink appears much more tempting. It did sound good to drink yourself wasted and crash out for the night. Plus, both Gojo and geto seemed like friends whom you could rely on. Earlier, Gojo’s warm enthusiasm about Geto suddenly sends a stab of guilt into you. Truthfully, he did seem like a nice man.

The lack of sleep must be getting to you. Combined with the fact that it’s making you utterly paranoid out of your mind.

Your reply earns you a dubious look. “Anything you say. But the moment you show signs of doing that again, we are ending the shoot.”

“Thanks, Gojo-san.” You give him an earnest smile. “Maybe you aren’t so bad after all” you joke.

“Nah. Don’t let your guard down so fast. I’m not as much of a saint as you paint me out to be.”

—

“Satoru, I told you to look at the camera, not at her.” The sheer annoyance laced in Geto’s statement almost makes you flinch.

On the contrary, Gojo merely gives an annoyed Geto a lazy smile. Upon spotting the grimace on your face, his devilishly rogue smile widens. It’s easy to see why this man had everyone tripping over their feet.

His snowy hair tickles your cheek when he brings his forehead close to yours. A puff of warm breath grazes your ear as Gojo chuckles. “Don’t look so scared. Suguru’s, all bark and no bite.”

Against your better judgment, you feel your cheeks heat up at the way Gojo is talking to you. You blame it on the position that the two of you are in. With both his hands propped on either sides of your face and one of his thighs between your legs. The strap of your dress has slid off, and Gojo’s suit is unbuttoned to reveal the smooth planes of his chiseled chest.

It’s the image of every fan’s wet dream. To have the Gojo Satoru pressed above you.

But the abrupt snap of the shutter yanks you back to reality. All of a sudden, things don’t exactly seem as perfect as they do.

Already, there’s a headache pounding at the back of your head.

“You too.” Geto’s clipped voice calls out amidst the clicks. “Camera. Not each other.”

Reluctantly, you yank your eyes off Gojo’s toothy grin and onto the raven-haired man with half of his face obscured by the camera. When did he get so close? A strand of his hair has fallen out of his bun, but Geto pays it no mind as he continues to angle the camera at the both of you.

You force your tensed body to relax as you peer into the lens, you can see a little reflection of yourself reflected in those dark shutters. It’s taking everything in you not to wince when the repeated click, click, click, echoes mutedly in the air. Picture after picture, your image is imprinted into the film like little notches frozen in time. Bile rises up like a wave in your clogged up throat.

“Look here.” With a jolt, you realize your attention has begun drifting away from the camera. Geto sounds annoyed, almost frustrated, and the tone of his voice sends your already frazzled nerves fraying even more. The last thing you want is to make him annoyed. You don’t want to lose this project before it has even started. Geto readjusts his position. Without warning, he strides over to you and grabs your wrist. The sensation of his cold fingers on your skin makes you gasp like a startled rabbit and you would have scuttled backwards if it weren’t for the fact that Gojo still has you pinned underneath him. You are sure he can feel the way your breath has hitched the moment Geto gripped you.

“You need to put your arm on his shoulder.” With a breathtaking gentleness that one wouldn’t have expected, Geto guides your arm to loop it around Gojo’s shoulder. Yet, his gentleness doesn’t exactly make you feel any better. The look on Gojo’s face is unreadable, almost as if he’s studying you.

Finally, Geto seems satisfied. He brings the camera up again. You don’t point out the fact that he still has his fingers clamped around your wrist and that it would be visible in the photo that he takes. “Look here,” he murmurs under his breath. You don’t point out the fact that Gojo is still looking at you with some sort of burning fervor in his pretty blues. Weren’t you both supposed to look at the camera?

You see a flash of pearly white when Geto smiles. “Perfect.”

Just when you feel like you can’t take it anymore, Geto finally puts his camera aside as he runs a hand through his loose hair. “Let’s take a break.” His empty stare meets yours, and you look away. “We will continue later.”

Gojo helps you to your feet and you continue to intently ignore the weight of Geto’s heavy stare that pins you across your back. Save for the three of you, the studio is empty after Geto insisted for everyone to leave so that he could work in peace. He’d always been particularly meticulous and stubborn with his shoots. And his renowned reputation as a photographer lets him get away with the most bizzare of requests. For some reason, there’s something oddly and unsettling familiar about both their presences lingering just so close to you.

A soft knock on the door has you scurrying over to open it and you almost heave out a relieved sigh at the sight of a familiar face. “Nanami.” A bright smile tugs the corners of your lips upwards when your manager steps into the studio. “I thought you left.”

Nanami, ever the reliable person, hands you a small towel and a cup of warm water, “I’m here to check up on you before I leave.”

Immediately, your brilliant smile fades from the bright glow of a burning sun to nothing more but a flickering candlelight. It doesn’t go unnoticed by your manager. “I can stay if you want. I’ll drop you off after your shoot is done,” Nanami adds gently.

Just as you open your mouth to reply, Gojo cuts in, “Come on now, there’s no need for that. Besides, she’s joining us for drinks after.”

Nanami doesn’t even bother concealing the disapproving look that fleets across his face. “You are?”

Faced with your manager’s stern questioning, you can’t help but fidget anxiously. “Just for a few drinks.” A lightbulb lights up on your head. “Nanami, why don’t you join us?” You hope your voice doesn’t sound too pleading.

“It’s late.” Geto’s velvety voice drifts over. “I’m sure we wouldn’t want to trouble your manager for staying up so late. I’m unsure how long this shoot will last. After all, we aren’t even halfway done yet. Photography is an art that cannot be rushed. I promise you that I’ll be there to keep Satoru in check. You need not worry for her safety.”

All hope that was blossoming in you shrivels up like dried petals.

Seemingly satisfied by Geto’s responsible answer, Nanami nods his head. “All right. Remember to text me when you get home.”

At the doorway, something in your fuzzy gaze seems to stop Nanami in his tracks. But when Geto gives him a firm yet polite smile, he decides that maybe you deserve a night out. After all, he’d always been too strict with you recently. You deserve to have some fun without him constantly breathing your neck. Without another thought, Nanami shuts the door behind him.

——

You’re so perfect that he almost feels like a depraved pervert for even looking at you up close like this.

Being so close, he could almost count each lash that fans across your cheekbones, the tiny pores on your skin, the minty toothpaste that you use. It makes his heart leap to his throat.

Judging by the slow rise and fall of your chest, you must have drifted off into the darkness by now. It's a shame, he did prefer it when you were at least able to remain aware of his touches. Your cute mumbles and attempt to bat his hand away never failed to amuse him to no end.

Nevertheless, he hums to himself, tucking a stray hair of yours behind your ear as he raises the camera to his face.

Click.

Another picture to add to his ever growing collection.

Click.

He almost blushes at the way your shorts have ridden up to expose your thighs. And the camera has certainly captured each dip and contour of your body well.

Click.

Unable to help himself, he angles the camera lower until your lovely face isn’t the only thing in frame. Maybe he really is nothing more than a pervert.

Click.

The abrupt flashes make you stir, making your cheek grazes his outstretched finger, and he shudders at the warmth. Though your delicate softness beckons to him like a flower waiting to be plucked and lovingly pressed against the pages of a book to preserve for an eternity. He resists the temptation.

Instead, he lets his finger trace your collarbones before moving down your limp shoulders. No matter how hard the tent in his pants has begun to strain, he does not give in to that sick little voice that chimes in his head.

No. Instead, he smiles at your motionless figure with nothing but sick adoration and love in his eyes. Gently, he leans down and presses a kiss against your cheek. You mumble incoherently in response.

Even unconscious, your beauty shines ever as brilliantly.

He raises the camera again with a shaky exhale.

Click.

You think that you might be going crazy. Or perhaps, you were being pushed to the brink of insanity. Because even amongst the crowded bar, with the incessant drone of loud chatter echoing your ears, the dreaded sound of the camera’s shutter somehow makes its way to grab your attention.

It can’t be… Wildly, you whip your head from side to side as you scan the crowded room. Everywhere you turn, you are greeted with nothing but flashing neon lights and not a single camera in sight. Were you really starting to hear things now?

Gojo steps into your line of sight with his megawatt smile glinting against the strobe flashes, snagging your attention. He raises two glasses. “Free drinks from the owner.”

From your side, you can hear Geto chuckle. He’s standing a little too close for your liking, but you ignore it in favor of the drink which Gojo sets in your hand. “What is it?” you ask. The heavy bass of the song must have drowned out your answer because Gojo motions you closer with a quizzical look on his face.

Instinctively, you step closer to him, practically balancing on the tip of your toes in order to reach his ear. With one hand still clutching the drink, which was now precariously sloshing around from all your movement, you lean forward and yell into Gojo’s ear, “What is it?”

It takes you another moment before you realize that there’s another body pressed behind yours and Geto’s voice resonates besides you. “Don’t worry about what’s the drink. I can promise you it's good,” he murmurs. “Try it,” Geto urges, his hand closing around your fingers around the metal, folding his fingers into your own as he pushes the cup to coax your lips open. Vaguely, you are aware that his- both their breaths smell like the drink, coy, tantalizing honey paired with hints of fresh lime undertones that paint a sharp contrast to the sugary syrup.

All of a sudden, you are also hyper aware of the fact that both men now have you sandwiched between them without escape. And maybe it’s the drink, or the atmosphere, or the fact that despite your uncomfortableness around them, there’s no denying that they were both ridiculously attractive men.

You want to bat Geto’s hand away, you really do. But he’s being so gentle, and a part of you thinks that you deserve this. You deserve to let loose a little and have fun. Geto’s breath ghosts over the shell of your ear. “I promise. It’s really good.” In front of you, Gojo is looking at you like the three of you are sharing some intimate moment that just makes everything else melt away.

Without another word, you open your mouth and let Geto tip the drink into your parted lips. He’s practically holding the cup at this point, with his other hand curled lightly around the nape of your neck. True to his word, it tastes better than you’d expected. Though the sharp bite of the alcohol makes you wince, it’s quickly replaced by a sweet aftertaste that mingles pleasantly with the alcohol. Unconsciously, you swipe your tongue across your bottom lip to catch the remaining remnants.

It’s dangerous, the way you already feel slightly light, and you know that you wouldn’t think twice to knock back another drink if any of them offered you seconds.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Gojo asks you with a grin a little too wide for your liking.

You nod. Gojo responds by handing the other drink to Geto, who downs the entire thing with a neat flip of his wrist.

The hand on your neck shifts to your waist as Geto gently spins you around until you are facing him. “Come.” He smiles down at you, his black linen shirt is already unbuttoned at the top and his hair has been let loose from its bun, causing it to fall in tousled waves across his broad shoulders. Outside of work, Geto appeared to be much more approachable and carefree. Maybe you’d judged him too quickly. Dimly, you are rather surprised that Gojo hadn’t been the one to approach you first.

His pretty smile widens when you don’t pull away as he entwines the fingers of his large hand with your daintier ones. “Let’s dance.” The warmth of his rough palm licks against your smaller one as Geto gently leads you away towards the centre of the floor.

The moment his hands find their way around your hips and the alcohol sings in your veins, it almost feels as if everything around you has melted into a wondrous blur of musical giddiness.

One moment Geto’s long locks are tickling the nape of your neck as he whispers something into your ear. You can’t quite seem to concentrate on what he’s murmuring; all too aware of this way his fingers are splayed mere inches away from the hem of your dress. But this time, the nauseating feeling doesn’t arise..

When Geto’s low timbre reaches your ears again, you merely smile and laugh, too busy swaying your hips to the throbbing bass, too lost in your sweet bubble to notice how the photographer is looming over you, akin to a second shadow. Nor do you notice his dark, dark gaze as he watches you through half-lidded eyes that burn with a startlingly feverish intensity.

From a distance, a bright gaze tracks your figure.

Gojo was right. Tonight was going to be a good night’s sleep.

#yandere x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #yandere getou #yandere gojo satoru #make yandere #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #yandere gojo #yandere geto suguru

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kirimoochi · 7 months

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winner.

₊˚ ᗢ kazuha x gn!reader, modern au.

⤷ based on conan gray's "winner."

“I haven’t planned on leaving, but you haven’t been back home in days.” What a familiar sight. The platinum haired boy stands in front of the foot of your door, his arms wrapping tightly around himself. He’s still wearing the same cardigan you gifted him back in your first year of college. Except this time, the wool has significantly frayed and frizzled out. His hair is dripping with water, and you could see the desperation hidden beneath his eyes. He shivers with his teeth pressing against the bottom of his lip.

Without saying a word, you push the door further open. Letting the man into your home. He wordlessly makes his way into your apartment, glancing back at you as your lips curve into a frown. You choose not to say anything. You leave for a short period of time to give him a towel. And during these few moments of quiet peace, you figure this is just another choice you’ll regret later.

He admires the decorations on your wall, the photographs that litter your kitchen and table. All of your friends piled up against you, their glowing faces with bright smiles. He looks away as to not envy the life you decided to live without him. Though his heart aches, there is nothing he could do. Nothing he should do. Time has passed and perhaps you’ve moved on. He hopes you did. But deep down, as he grazes his finger against an old photo of you and him, he wishes he stays the same in your heart.

“The pots and pans and roaches, I’m glad I’m finally going. Because even them, they shudder at your name.” Waking up to him by your side, you hold back a sigh. Raising your leg, you press your elbow against the surface. Your forehead is held with the palm of your hand. A cold sweat dribbles down the side of your neck. The man is left half-naked in your sheet, his slight snores being the only sound resonating in your bedroom.

Your finger brushes over the spots on your neck. Bites and kisses left by him in the heat of the moment. And you ask yourself if you regret it. If you regret letting him back in your home despite all the hurt. Your nails pinch the bridge of your nose. The sharp pains remind you that this is not a dream. He’s here, by your side, still whispering to you poetry. Had things been a little different, maybe you could have felt those same butterflies. But things are bitter. So bittersweet it makes you whimper in distaste.

You don’t know how long this will last. This home that you’ve built. You want to tell yourself that he is nothing more than a wanderer. He was destined for a life outside these walls. Meant to see the rest of the world, without you. And that thought makes you wonder if it was worth doing any of the things you did. If it was worth letting him hold you, as if you still meant something to him. You don’t know what you’re doing. You hate the way he folds you in half. You hate the way his touches still leave warm fingerprints on your skin.

That unwavering confidence that brought you here, in this apartment and reality, is starting to fall apart. You were sure that you were over him. God, you said you were over him. You were over his push and pull. You were over the way he always tells you, “I want to leave. And I meant it.” Because if he truly did, if he meant those words, he would have left sooner. He would have never come back and said, “I love you,” if that were true.

“You don’t really wanna hear the truth,” you still love me. “It’s obvious to anyone who ever knew you.”

And it makes me want to scream inside.

#₊˚ ᗢ kirimoochi #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kazuha x reader #kazuha kaedehara x reader

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jonnysinsectcatalogue · 3 months

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Brush-Footed Butterfly Snack Time & Hungry Owl Caterpillars

Our time observing the Butterflies of Mexico comes to a close with a delight sight of many individuals coming in to land for a citrus-filled snack! In this Butterfly garden, snacks are placed to encourage photography and closer glimpses at these beautiful insects. Handling is discouraged of course, but I'd be willing to bet that these Butterflies wouldn't mind flying over if you were close enough and holding some fruit. Using the orange slices, you can get a sense of scale for these scale-winged insects, and all things considered they are quite large and if they were to open their wings, their wingspan would be impressive! At this snack station, there are (at least) 3 different species of Butterflies congregating and sipping with their proboscises. Though different in many ways, these Brush-Footed Butterflies have one beautiful thing in common: their drab/mottled colored wings conceal vibrant colors on their dorsal side, aiding their survivability via cryptic camouflage. See if you can identify which specie is which.

The most conspicuous of these 3 are the Giant Owl Butterflies (Caligo telamonius), so named because of their large eye-spots on their hindwing's underside. Their cryptic colors combined with their dusk flying allows them to fly around with low risk of bird attack. And if a bird does attack, the eye-spots make a handy decoy. The hypothesis that the eye-spots deter predators by resembling a predators' eyes has been called into question. It's dorsal side features white, blue and black wings.

My dear friend was also able to find some Giant Owl Caterpillars among the plants. With the horn-like structures on their faces, the lines along their body and their spiny protrusions, they remind me of dragons. The wrigglers here appear to be enjoying Musa plants (the leaves appear similar to those of banana trees, one of which my family has had before). The green individuals appear to be the further developed instar since the spines are more prominent and far larger.

The individuals with brown and white wings featuring many ring-patterned spots are actually the Blue Morpho (Morpho peleides), one of the most iconic and iridescent-winged Butterflies. A few individuals here actually showcase their blue dorsal side (see Pictures 2, 3 and 7). Amazingly, their scale color is not caused by pigmentation of the scale, but rather the scale's prismatic qualities (a phenomenon known as structural color) which are stacked, resulting in entering light wavelengths manifesting only the blue wavelength of light.

Finally, try and spot the One-Spotted Preponas (Archaeoprepona demophon). These were the hardest to identify since they blend in amongst their larger friends and their tan-colored wings would make them difficult to see in the wild. What made the difference for me was the curvature along a vein in the hindwing. In comparison to their conspicuous fruit-mates, they aren't so distracting. However, up close there's quite a bit to enjoy. Looking at pictures other photographers have taken, they have a pink proboscis and a stunning teal-blue and black pattern on their dorsal wings.

Pictures were taken on February 11, 2024 in Mexico with a Samsung Galaxy S23 Ultra.

#jonny’s insect catalogue #giant owl butterfly #one spotted prepona butterfly #blue morpho butterfly #giant owl butterfly caterpillar #butterfly #caterpillar #giant owl caterpillar #one spotted prepona #blue morpho #brush footed butterfly #lepidoptera #insect #mexico #february2024 #2024 #nature #entomology #invertebrates

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tinkertechy · 11 months

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I'm getting in on this butterfly wing Shenanigans even if I can't draw.

The symbiotic relationship between the people known as ‘Hermits’ and those across the rift known as ‘artists’ has stupefied and befuddled researchers for years. While it is known that the Hermits themselves are people, whole and solid, they have a profound impact on these ‘artists’ who only have interacted with the Hermits through their automated transmissions. What is curious is that, in turn, the Hermits are often influenced by the media that is transmitted back. This varies from Hermit to Hermit, but has led to anything from different wings to wild transmogrification in the shape of the Hermit’s Body. For those more wildly affected by these changes, it is unknown how much control they have over how their body shifts.

~Pixlriffs, Archaeological Forays into Unknown Lands

***

Doc glowered as he stared at the button.

“Oh, come on, they don’t look that bad.” Xisuma tried to say cheerfully. “I’m sure they’ll forget about this soon enough.”

“But they won’t!” Doc threw his hands in the air in frustration. “When it comes to side comments like this, they have a photographic memory!” He looked over his shoulder at the newly-shifted wings. “I’m going to look like this forever.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic.” Cleo sighed, shaking her head. “You can put your foot down at any time and go back to normal elytra.”

“Can he, though?” Xisuma asked, tilting his head. “I mean…”

The thought trailed off. Doc was one of those Hermits whose appearance was very…strongly influenced by his fans. The butterfly wings were only the latest addition.

“Look, do you ever actually see Grian with parrot wings?” Cleo asked. “He never lets himself get influenced by what the fans draw.”

“Ah… He has been running around with a chicken head again…”

There was the thunk of an arrow hitting the ground in front of Doc’s feet, who didn’t flinch as he eyed the button like a hawk. This was followed by the sound of its unfortunate archer crashing into a wall behind them. The only reason Xisuma and Cleo turned to look was to see if there was a person or a pile of possessions scattered in the grass.

Luckily for Scar, his landing was not at terminal velocite. The gangly archer clumsily pulled himself from an upside-down position to brush dust off his legs. “Man, you would not believe how hard it is to hit a stationary object these days.” He said as he tried to brush off the failed attempt at unnecessary assassination. “I can’t even hit a… butterfly…”

Scar paled as he realized just who the ‘butterfly’ was. “Oh hi Doc! Fancy running into you here-“

“Scar. Not a word.” Doc said shortly.

“No no, not at all, not a peep out of me!” Scar said quickly. He tried to dig himself out of the hole he found himself in, but his shovel was pointed in the wrong direction. “I will say those look absolutely fantast-“

“Scar, now really isn’t the time.” Cleo said, resting a firm hand on Doc’s shoulder before he turned around. “Don’t you have more of Scarland to build?”

“Nah, I’m taking a quick break, building towers for hours can really take it out of you.” Scar strolled forward to look at the button, stretching his arms. “Is this Mumbo’s new button-thingamajiger?”

“Yeah.” Xisuma said, calmly grabbing Scar’s wrist as he reached out to push the button. “The longer you let it go, the nicer a crown you get.”

“Ooooh, that is so cool!” Scar’s eyes sparkled. “Where’s it at now?”

“It’s juuust about to turn red, we think.” Xisuma said, pointing up at the readerboard. “Doc’s been watching it for hours.”

“Oh, do you think his wings will turn red to match the crown?” Scar asked, his curiosity and imagination getting ahead of his common sense. “That would be so cool looking! And fear-inducing. Like an evil overlord.” He said quickly, eyeing Doc out of the corner of his eye. “Xisuma, did I hear you set up a boss arena for TCG?” Scar continued, quickly changing the subject. “You have to let me try it!”

“You still haven’t beat Cub!” Cleo protested.

“Who still hasn’t beat me?” Cub asked, appearing out of nowhere behind them. “Oh cool, it’s in the yellow.” He reached around Doc and pressed the button, allowing a small crown and a few diamonds to spill out of the machine. “Nice, now I just need to-“

“CUB!”

Cub turned around. Doc was a good foot taller than him, at least, And could be intimidating on the best of days, even when he was in a good mood.

Doc was not in a good mood.

Cub never knew that butterfly wings could be so fear-inducing.

“So…. Why butterfly wings?” Scar asked as Doc chased Cub up and down the shopping district.

“Playtime with Doccy.” Cleo explained. “They’re in the ‘pretend animals’ phase.”

“Aww, that’s adorable.” Scar smiled.

“And then Doc told his fans about it.” Xisuma added.

“Is that normally a problem?” Scar asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It is when he finishes the story blatantly telling the artists not to draw it.”

“Ah, yeah, that would do it.” Scar nodded. “Never dare your artists, they will take it and run. Just like Cub did!”

“I’m amazed he’s keeping ahead of Doc.” Cleo said, impressed. “Scar, do you have any of that Scarland popcorn on you?”

#hermitcraft #docm77 #xisumavoid #zombiecleo #goodtimeswithscar

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embraceyouropacities · 2 months

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“Instructions for a Body” — Marty McConnell

Praise the miracle body: The odd and undeniable mechanics of hand, Hundred-boned foot, Perfect stretch of tendon. Praise the veins that river these wrists.

Praise the prolapsed valve in a heart. Praise the scars marking a gallbladder absent. Praise the rasp and rattle of functioning lungs. Praise the pre-arthritic ache of elbows and ankles.

Praise the lifeline sectioning a palm. Praise the photographic pads of fingertips. Praise the vulnerable dip at the base of a throat. Praise the muscles surfacing on an abdomen.

Praise these arms that carry babies and anthologies. Praise the leg hairs that sprout and are shaved. Praise the ass that refuses to shrink or be hidden. Praise the cunt that bleeds and accepts, Bleeds and accepts.

Praise the prominent ridge of nose. Praise the strange convexity of ribcage. Praise the single hair that insists on growing from a right areola. Praise the dent where the mole was clipped from the back of a neck. Praise these inner thighs brushing. Praise these eyelashes that sometimes turn inward. Praise these hips preparing to spread into a grandmother’s skirt. Praise the beauty of the freckle on the first knuckle of a left little finger.

We’re gone In a blizzard of seconds. Love the body human while we’re here, A gift of minutes on an evolving planet, A country in flux.

Give thanks for bone and dirt And the million things that will kill us someday, Motion and the pursuit of happiness, no guarantees.

Give thanks For chaos theory, ecology, common sense That says we are web, A planet in balance or out, That butterfly in Tokyo setting off thunderstorms in Iowa.

Tell me you don’t matter to a universe that conspired To give you such a tongue, Such rhythm or rhythmless hips, Such opposable thumbs.

Give thanks or go home a waste of spark. Speak or let the maker take back your throat. March or let the creator rescind your feet. Dream or let your god destroy your good and fertile mind.

This is your warning. This is your birthright. Do not let this universe regret you.

#marty mcconnell #poem #bodies #appreciation #sacred texts #meaning #life #wisdom #reminder

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sitting-on-me-bum · 4 years

Photo

Brush-footed Butterfly

Photographer: Jimmy Hoffman

#jimmy hoffman #photographer #brush-footed butterfly #butterfly #macro photography #nature #insect

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that-crazy-scorpio-man · 6 years

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halaboyz · 3 years

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–– PHOTOGRAPH // CHANHEE.

pairing: photographer! chanhee x fem! reader genre: fluff, bffs to lovers word count: 2k warnings // notes: profanities, cliche, cheesy things and shitty effort of making lines ;; happiest birthday to our choi chanhee!! may he be blessed for his heart full of love <3

"You're coming to my exhibit, right?" He said as he hands you one of the tickets, and you chuckling because of the name of his exhibit.

"What kind of name is this?" You stifled a laugh, "My Art Speaks Words I Want to Deliver to You,"

Chanhee watches you hold on to dear life as you burst out laughing, wiping the tears that have escaped your eyes.

"Well, if only the linguistic major here helped me pick out some words I don't even know exists," He glares at you, "Then maybe we could've picked a better name, am I right?" He rolls his eyes as you calmed down, finally taking a seat beside him on the couch.

“Okay, okay Mr. grumpy, I’m sorry,” You said between laughter. Looking at the time and date, you nod, your smile slowly fading to a frown.

“What’s wrong? You can’t come again?” He frowns with you, a pout coming out of his lips. Your heart broke by the sight, knowing that even if he had hundreds of exhibits already, you haven’t come to one because of work.

“I’m afraid I’m gonna have to miss this one too,” You tackled him into a hug. “I have a very important meeting set by last minute,” You mumbled against the crook of his neck, causing him to whine.

“I was so sure you’d go to this one though..” You hear him mumble, as a sigh came out.

“How are you so sure?” You raised your eyebrows at him, sitting up.

“I checked your schedule!” He exclaimed, getting the ticket from you. “I can’t help it. You always have work when I handle an exhibit and wow, are you still my best friend?” He dramatically stands up, making his way to the other couch in front of you.

“Aw,” You whined, tailing him and throwing yourself at him again making him groan. “Give me that,” You reach for the ticket, only to be pulled by Chanhee again.

“Can’t you just cancel it?” He pouts, looking desperate.

“Look, I’m not the client. I can’t just cancel whenever,” You pressed his cheeks together, wiggling his face. “But give me the ticket. If they can set meetings last minute, they might cancel things last minute too. We’ll never know,” You reached higher, grabbing the ticket.

Chanhee huffed, making you lose your footing and it all happened so fast, you instinctively put out your elbow to support your fall– well, on the floor. You didn’t know Chanhee had that goddamn fast reflexes as he pulls you close to him, making you elbow his.. danger zone.

You shrieked as chanhee silently suffers, his face saying it all.

“Oh my fucking god..” You muttered, pressing your lips to a thin line to stop yourself from bursting in laughter.

Chanhee lets out a small groan as you slowly remove your elbows, your face mirroring Chanhee’s pained face.

“I’m so sorry,” You mumble, letting out a small laugh.

“I’d kill you if you laugh right in front of me,” He sighs out, crouching and wriggled his body all over the couch.

You were red. Oh, no. Not because of what just happened, but because you were stopping yourself from laughing. You knew Chanhee meant every word he said.

“You should fucking go at my exhibit after busting my balls,” He mumbled against the throw pillow.

“Hey! Not my fault you pulled me!”

You were redder. Oh, no. Not because you were now suppressing your laughter, but how you remembered how close Chanhee was to you just minutes ago if it weren’t for his unfortunate luck.

He suddenly stands up, wincing.

“Are you kidding me?! If it weren’t for me, you’re injured and crying and we’re probably on the way to the hospital right now!” He sighs out, the pain finally fading second by second.

You fanned yourself, trying to focus on what your friend was saying.

“Anyways,” You shake your head. “I’ll do my best.” You smile at him apologetically before sticking out your tongue, and ending the night while getting tackled by Chanhee– as if he was possessed by Changmin.

You bounced your feet continuously, waiting for your client. You just prayed for it to be really, really short to get to Chanhee’s exhibition.

You knew how important this was to him, and it broke your heart that as his best friend, you can’t even go to one.

Or was it because you’re starting to see Chanhee in a whole, different light?

There are a few times that your heart thumped abnormally at the sight of Chanhee frowning, and you can’t put your finger on which emotion was it. Did it hurt you because you were his best friend and you can’t go, or did it hurt because you were still a best friend? Either way, if it were the latter, if you were his girlfriend– no, you didn’t deserve him.

You can’t even make time for him as a best friend, how’d you do if you were his?

Starting to overthink, you were thankful by the sound of your phone rang for a second, signaling a message.

chanhee: go or this friendship is over. grr sent 3:35pm

You knew he was joking. Partly, you guess. Or maybe not. You suddenly became nervous, your feet bouncing doubled. You sip on the drink, you had twenty-five minutes left to run over his exhibit, but the client–

You jump as your phone suddenly rang, making you tremble. Your client was finally calling, after being late for fifteen minutes already.

And oh my god, your heart could have burst from the news. You hailed a taxi as fast as you can, and the smile on your face can’t stop rising.

Finally. You were finally getting to see his exhibit.

You smile more at the thought, more to expect of Chanhee’s reaction. You felt nervous, excited, and giddy. It wasn’t the first time seeing Chanhee’s works, as he’d been part of the photography club since college, but it still made you excited and proud of what he’s become.

You sighed in relief as you look outside, the big name– My Art Speaks Words I Want to Deliver to You welcoming you.

3:50.

Ten minutes. You just need to run, no biggie.

“Hi, I’m uh.. Chanhee’s friend.” You smile at the guard, handing him your ticket while still trying to catch your breath.

“Oh! You’re! You’re! You’re the friend!” He exclaimed, excitedly opening the door for you. “You’re just in time! Well, technically, you’re.. running a bit late but! Doesn’t matter. You’re finally here!” You just look at him confusingly, nodding your head as you roam your eyes on the big place.

Your heartbeat is twice as fast more than running.

You felt combusting quite literally. Your eyes wandered to each picture, letting it sink in that those in the pictures..

Were you.

It was all you.

There were only a few people left, smiling as they take in every photograph that wasn’t even them.

“These are so sweet. The name of the exhibit literally says it all,” A woman in her middle 30s, you guess, said as she clung to her probably husband’s arm.

“It does. The photographer’s indeed talented. Even makes me giddy,” You chuckle as you eavesdropped, reverting your attention back to the pictures.

All was black and white.

But it didn’t matter.

What colored his world was you– it has always been you.

A black and white picture doesn’t do justice to how much light you bring to his dull world, it was just you that he needed in order to make a simple black and white picture to be beautiful.

Your smile. It was one of the things he loved seeing, he loved taking a picture of. It made everyone around you smile too, and it made him upset that it wasn’t just him making you smile.

Your hair, how every single hairstyle suits you, how it flows across your face, and how you always brush it back when it frustratingly gets in your face. One of his favorites and loved taking a picture of it along with the pout on your face.

Your eyes, which spoke a thousand words and held millions of stars and also one of the millions of things he loved about you, and seeing it on a picture didn’t make sense as you needed to see it in person to make you feel butterflies on your stomach.

Every move you did was captured on his camera, and you didn’t even realize the tears have already gone out of your eyes.

He made you beautiful.

He made you feel beautiful,

Because you always were.

You didn’t need to be pretty in everybody’s eyes, you just needed him.

You were already in the last picture, and oh were you certain chanhee wasn’t the one who took this. You felt thankful enough Changmin, your other friend, had quite the skills in taking pictures too because this.. was just perfect.

You didn’t need to be pretty in everybody’s eyes, you just needed him. Because he is what completed you.

It was a picture taken afar of you sleeping in the library on one of your college days, and Chanhee was supporting his head with his palm, looking– just looking at you with heart eyes.

“Oh my fucking god,” You sighed out, crouching as you messily wiped your tears away, though it still kept on spilling.

“You’re finally here.” That sweet, familiar voice that enchanted you sighed out, from the corner of the four-walled place. He was leaning on the wall, looking as if he had finally had the burden out of his chest. “So, what do you think?”

Just like the pictures, you didn’t need words. You just throw yourself at him, nuzzling against his neck as you cried like a baby.

He sighs out again, relieved, as he buried himself more to you and engulfing each other’s warmth. His hands continued to calm you down by caressing your back, and you tried your best to stop crying.

Chanhee pulls back, taking your face to his hands and wiping your tears away.

“Hey, look at me,” He leans closer to you, lifting your face up softly. “If you didn’t get the whole point of this exhibition then.. I might just smack you in the face.”

You let out a small defeated laugh, wiping the tears yourself.

“I love you too if that was what it meant.” You look at him straight in the eyes, slouching your shoulders. You took his face into your hands too, pressing your lips softly in his.

He smiled in the kiss, his hands making their way to your neck as he kisses you back.

More than perfect.

The moment you were both out of breath, you break the kiss but let your foreheads linger with each other, smiles on your faces.

“Just.. how many times have you tried doing this?” You whisper, taking ahold of his hand and intertwining your fingers.

You pull him in front of the last picture you’ve seen, now clear as ever without your tears on the way.

“Oh, I think out of my hundred and fifty exhibits you missed,” You roll your eyes, the sarcasm his voice spilling. “It's my 98th try. That’s why I really needed you to come.” He looks at you, thinking it was much better seeing you in person rather than just a photograph– as if it's like the first time seeing you all over again.

“And if I didn’t come? Would you really have the guts to break this friendship?” You face him back, taking his other hand.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant I’d take it in my own hands and just.. straight up confess.” He craned his head sideward, challenging you.

“I’d been feeling very weird these days too, I just realized how much I am so in love with you if it weren’t for your art speaks words I want to deliver to me,” You chuckle, making him throw his head back.

Perfect.

Chanhee loved everything about photography, and he loved photography because it’s able to take what’s beautiful and he can cherish it forever. He loved it because not only it can take pictures of his friends, or nature, or what he found beautiful and calming, but it has the power to turn everything into a memory he can keep. He loved photography, he loved taking a picture of you, he loved you.

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whatnext10 · 1 month

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The Red Admiral is a Beautiful Brush Footed Butterfly

Painted with Sunlight Another one of our early spring butterflies that is now on the wing is the red admiral (Vanessa atalanta). These pretty and colorful butterflies are also sometimes known as the red admirable, the northern hemisphere red admiral, or the northern red admiral. Like the common buckeyes, they are members of the brush footed butterfly family. They are common throughout most of…

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#brush footed butterflies #butterflies #butterfly photographs #butterfly photography #colorful butterflies #Florida brush footed butterflies #Florida red admirales #migratory butterflies #northern hemisphere red admiral #northern red admiral #photography #red admirable #red admiral #red admiral butterfly #red admiral photographs #spring butterflies #territorial butterflies

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cheri-translates · 3 years

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Headcanon: Let’s break up on the 30th of February

This work, 我们 2月30日号分手吧, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it 🌸

[ VICTOR ]

Every failed prank pulled on Victor has only served to embolden you. Once again, you’ve come up with an idea on how to challenge him.

“Victor. After giving it much thought, I've decided to break up with you on the 30th of February.” Exercising your acting skills, you bite your lower lip, standing before him with a pitiful expression. Your eyes are welling with tears as you pretend to be torn between reluctance and resoluteness.

“Mm,” Victor responds simply.

Without lifting his head, he circles some data on your proposal with a red pen, then draws a cross.

Hold on, why is this situation turning out different from what you imagined? Wasn’t he supposed to tug on your hand, begging you not to leave with reddened eyes? Turns out the television dramas lied!

You gripe, pinching his ear. “You actually responded with just a ‘mm’!”

“What else?” He creates some distance between himself and the desk, giving you more space to move. Resigned, he covers his hand over yours, rescuing his poor ear from your clutches.

“Do you not love me anymore? As expected, men don’t know how to treasure what they’ve obtained!” You lunge at him, and the chair swivels backwards along with this action. Fortunately, Victor holds you before you fall.

“Didn’t you say it yourself?” After keeping you steady, he brings you into his arms.

Enraged, you give him glare, climbing up from his body and giving him an angry stomp on the foot. “Who was the one who said he’d never leave me? Now that I want a break up, you aren’t even trying to make me stay.”

Victor’s brows scrunch up in pain. “Did you really think I wouldn’t know that the 30th of February doesn’t exist?”

Seeing that your plot has been unravelled, you chuckle in embarrassment. Trying to placate him, you nuzzle into his arms. “Heheh, Teacher Victor is really smart!”

He encircles his arm around your waist. As though he’s forgiving a playful child for the umpteenth time, he pinches your waist as a small punishment. “Since a certain someone doesn’t have sufficient IQ, I’ll have to make up for her absence of IQ.”

“Victor, there’s no need for personal attacks!

[ GAVIN ]

Having an off day from work, the two of you decide to stay at home instead of heading out.

He’s currently reading a book while you’re scrolling on your phone as usual. All of a sudden, you come across a pretty interesting prank, and decide to use it on Gavin. “Gavin, let’s break up on the 30th of February.

Gavin freezes, the arm around your shoulders loosening by quite a fair amount. He turns his head stiffly towards you, a dash of pain flashing in his dimming amber eyes. “Have you... thought it through?”

“I have. We’ll break up on the 30th of February.” You give him a nod of certainty.

Gavin retracts his right hand which was around you earlier. With his brows tightly knit, he speaks carefully, his tone filled with unease. “Then... before you find someone who can protect you, could I continue protecting you in the meantime?”

Oh my goodness, I forgot how honest this man could be.

“Gav, look at the calendar.” Knowing that you’ve gone too far, you hurriedly tap open the calendar app on your phone.

“I’m not looking! I know that it’s the 26th of February today, and there are four more days till the 30th.” Gavin cranes his neck away, pushing away the phone you’ve brought to him, tone slightly upset. If he had ears on the top of his head, they’d definitely be drooping.

“Why don’t you take another look?” Suppressing your laughter, you push the phone in front of him again.

“I don’t want to!” He squeezes his eyes shut. “You’re going to tell me that it’s a non-leap year, which means there’s a year and four days left. But a year passes by really quickly, and the 30th will arrive soon.”

Oh no, I’ve shocked this poor boy silly.

Not receiving a response from you even after a long time, Gavin opens his eyes to find that you’ve been rendered speechless. He lowers his head with a pout. “Am I wrong?”

With a sigh, you lift his head, giving him a gentle gaze as you explain. “Dear, it’s a non-leap year, but there are only 29 days in February even in a leap year. There will never be a 30th February, which is why I’ll never break up with you in this lifetime.”

“...”

Gavin blinks, reacting only after a long while. Reaching out to encase you back into his arms, his fluffy hair nuzzles the crook of your neck affectionately. “You gave me a scare. In compensation, go stargazing with me tonight.”

[ LUCIEN ]

The bathroom is always the easiest place for inspiration to strike.

“Lucien, I’ve made a decision. I’ll break up with you on the 30th of February.” Your expression is solemn as you step out of the bathroom, looking at Lucien as he reads a book.

The light in Lucien eyes dim, and he sets down the book. With a mellow tone, he asks, “Little Butterfly, are you serious?”

You nod, repeating yourself once more with the acting skills you’ve picked up from actors during filming. “I’m serious. We’ll break up on 30th February.”

Lucien pauses for a moment, then lowers his head in thought. The situation dawns on him, and he releases a sigh, casting you a resigned glance. Tugging on your hand so that you sit in front of the dressing table, he takes out the hair dryer and dries your hair slowly. “Sorry. Even though I know there won’t be a 30th February, I won’t agree to it.”

“Huh? Why not?” You turn your head, speaking loudly amid the whirring wind. “Since you’ve already figured it out, just play along with me!”

He pats your half-dried hair, then turns the hair dryer off. Then, he locates the styling brush and tidies your hair. “I don’t wish for us to be tainted by the term ‘break up’, even if the chances of that happening is zero.”

Lucien is indeed pretty sensitive when it comes to this matter. Realising this, you obediently sit still on the chair like an elementary school kid, leaving him to tidy your hair. “Okay okay, I was in the wrong. I won’t joke about such things next time. Also, I can promise that the butterfly will never leave her painter in this lifetime.”

“Good.” The corners of Lucien’s lips curl upwards, satisfied.

He picks up the hair dryer again. “Since you’ve admitted your mistake, your punishment will be to make me cream puffs, and accompany me to class tomorrow, in the capacity of a family member.”

[ KIRO ]

Once again catching Kiro red-handed as he steals your snacks, you grab a fistful of his hair angrily. “Kiro, since you’re always taking my snacks, I've decided to break up with you on the 30th of February!”

“Miss Chips, you saw that post too?” Kiro completely ignores the first half of your sentence. As though lacking even a shred of remorse, he places your favourite snack back in its original position, unable to hide it in time. He stands up obediently, the innocent expression on his face causing your anger to dissipate.

“Huh? You already know about it?”

“Of course. There’s nothing Kiro doesn’t know!” Being able to escape unscathed, Kiro’s imaginary tail wags in the air.

You roll your eyes, chasing him away from the snack cupboard. “Boring.”

“But Miss Chips, let’s not say such things in the future. I’ll admit that I was a little frightened earlier.” He lifts his hand, showing you a gap between his thumb and forefinger. “But just a little.”

“Really! Did I really scare you?” Pleasantly surprised, you turn around.

Kiro arches his brows in astonishment, then lowers his head as though upset. “Miss Chips, what’s with that excited expression?”

“Ever since we returned from the haunted house, I’ve always wanted to give you a fright, then snap photographs of your expression and make them into memes,” you laugh, taking out a small box from your pocket. Retrieving the lock from within, you clasp it onto the snack cupboard under Kiro’s shocked gaze.

“Miss Chips!!”

On that day, all the citizens within 10km distance had a discussion online about how they heard a man mimicking the voice of superstar Kiro, but his tone sounded so miserable that it was akin to a squealing pig awaiting its demise.

[ SHAW ]

After who knows how many times of facing Shaw’s mockery, you decide to give him a scare by employing a new prank you learnt on the web.

“Shaw, I’m ending our relationship as girlfriend and boyfriend on the 30th of February!”

Shaw’s eyes flit to you leisurely as he grabs the final chicken cutlet on the coffee table. Revealing a triumphant grin, he begs to be punched as he responds, “Pick another day. There won’t be a 30th February in your lifetime.”

???

Finding this incredulous, your eyes widen. “You little brat - you’re looking forward to the end of our relationship, aren't you?”

“I wouldn't say that I’m ‘looking forward’ to it, but it’s inevitable.”

He doesn’t explain further, licking the corners of his lips. Then, he takes a sip of mixed cola from your coke. The longer you watch him, the more enraged you are. It’s often said that people tend to lose their rationality when angry. Without much thought, the words in your head leap out of your mouth.

“Fine! Since you’re so certain, I’ll end this relationship with your annoying eggplant head today!”

“Sure.” Shaw feels around in his pocket.

You turn around to leave, never wanting to see this eggplant head ever again.

“Hey, wait.” He suddenly calls you. “I haven’t gotten my household register.”

Puzzled, you turn around with a glare. “A break up is just a break up. Why do you need your household register?”

Shaw stares at you as though he’s looking at a blockhead. “We’re ending our relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend, so isn’t the next step to start our relationship as husband and wife?”

At this stage, it’s difficult to remain angry. Yet, in order to preserve some dignity, you stutter and stammer, face flushed. “W-who even wants to start a relationship as husband and wife with you!”

“Who else but you?” Shaw digs through the drawer, retrieving both of your household registers. Grabbing your hand, he pulls you out of the house. “Let’s go and get a marriage license.”

–

More translated and original works: here

–

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author

#mlqc #mlqc gavin #mlqc kiro #mlqc lucien #mlqc shaw #mlqc victor #aeiofjsdklneiowahfsdkl #S H A W

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honeypirate · 3 years

Text

Quick drabbles about sweet moments I would like to have with some of my favorite characters.

Fem reader sometimes

Fire force

Benimaru

He comes into your room with a sigh, closing the door quietly before kneeling at the bottom of your bed and crawling up between your legs, pushing his head under your hands holding your book and laying his head against your chest. You chuckle and set your book aside before running your fingers through his hair “hello sweetheart” you say and he pushes up so his face was in your neck now, kissing the skin softly “hello” he says and sighs into your neck. “I missed you” you say and he nods into your neck “I missed you” he says and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tighter to you and kissing the top of his head.

Konro

You sit behind him in the bath, the hot water up to your shoulders and you lay your head against his back as he tells you about his day, his hands brushing up and down your legs beside him. You were careful to avoid the charred marks on his neck, arms, and back as you careful washed him, leaving kisses around them. You took care of him better than anyone and he felt the love you had for him every time you helped him, you never made him feel like a burden or anything less than, you made him feel comfortable in his own skin. “God I love you so much” he whispers as you finish washing his hair “it’s my turn now” he says and you carefully switch places with him, his large hands gently washing your body and kissing your neck. He washes your hair and then spends extra time running his fingers through it, loving the soft feel in his hands. You run your fingertips against his legs and up to his thighs as you talk and relax until the water gets too cold.

Obi Akitaru

He throws you over his shoulder after you get back to the compound, you giggle and lightly hit his back “Obi! Put me down!” He laughs and slaps your butt “not gonna happen. My girl was injured so I gotta carry her in” you sigh and relax in his hold “ It’s just a little burn! On my arm! I can still walk” he laughs but doesn’t set you down until you’re in his private bathroom. He helps you out of your fire force coat and pants before taking off his own, leaving you in just your underwear and a tank top and him in boxers. You smile softly up at his as he gently washes the soot off your cheeks and neck. “You’re so beautiful sweetheart” he says and you blush, reaching up and cupping his cheek with a smile “you’re not so bad yourself” you say and he grins. You take the washcloth from his hand and rinse it out before gently washing the soot off his cheeks for him “let’s hop in a shower so we can do this properly” he says as he dips down to capture your lips in his.

Hinawa

You push the kitchen door open quietly and peak in at him, he’s singing along to a old record he borrowed from Obi, some jazz from before the cataclysm. You watched him cook and sing, butterflies in your belly from how adorable it is. His voice was perfect for this kind of music and it smelled like he was making your favorite meal. You walk over to him and wrap your arms around his middle, his singing turning into a low chuckle. “Hey sweetheart” he says and you smile, placing a kiss against his shirt on his spine “it smells good but I want to know....are you on the menu for tonight?” you say and his hand holds yours on his stomach “naughty girl” he says before taking the pan of the heat and turning around in your arms, he holds both of your cheeks and you look up at him, your chin on his chest. His eyes were dark, you could see the lust in his eyes and the adoration he has for you. You stand on your tiptoes, meeting him halfway as he captures your lips his.

Haikyuu

Aone

Sitting in the living room, leaning against him on the couch as you both read together. His arm around you as he scrolls through his book on his tablet, your head against his arm, kissing it every other page turn. When you finish your chapter to mark your page and set your book on the coffee table before turning your head up and kissing his chin softly, watching his lips turn up in a smile before his eyes flick to yours after he finishes the sentence he was on. “I’m so unbelievably lucky” he whispers and you blush, after all these years he still makes you feel giddy in your heart.

Kuroo

You’re cooking breakfast while he pours mimosas, the Sunday morning air filled with sweet kisses and witty banter, him sticking to you like glue, his hands on your hips and his chin against your shoulder as he sways you to the music playing, singing the lyrics to you as you flip the pancakes.

Ushiwaka

Taking the long drive through the country for a weekend away, his hand on your thigh as he drives, you play a perfect relaxing mix of music but the radio is quiet background noise as you talk about anything you can think of. You loved that he was so open minded, you could ask anything your crack head thoughts come up with and he’d respond honestly. You never felt the need to fill any silence though, it was comfortable, he felt like home to you.

Daichi

You’re singing along to the music you had playing loudly as you did some late night cleaning while waiting for him to get come from work, he had to do some extra paperwork but you didn’t mind. You were excited to see him after being apart all day and to combat that excitement you decided to clean. When he walks in the house he smiles at the sight, you were standing on the back of the couch, the vacuum on as you suck the dust off the blinds, your foot tapping along to the music that was so loud you could hear it over the vacuum. He closed the door as he admired you before walking over to you and quickly clicking the vacuum button. You yelp as he knocks the back of your knees so you fell into his waiting arms, his smiling face made your heart skip as you relaxed into his arms “you naughty boy!” You say as you laugh and kisses your cheek “What can i say? I missed my darling”

Nishinoya

You’ve been together for years, spent traveling as you worked as a freelance photographer mostly but now you’ve decided to go home and put down your own roots, get back to family. After a few months you decided you wanted to adopt a pet tigether, finally deciding on a sweet cat you met at the shelter, he couldn’t stop talking about her so you thought it was a pretty good sign. Her first night home with you, you let her get adjusted and she kept to herself for the most part, claiming one of the chairs in the living room for herself. In the middle of a movie you were watching you got up to use the bathroom, when you returned he was mouthing screams at you pointing down, you chuckled as you saw that the cat had jumped up and fell asleep on his lap. He was so cute you about teared up for a moment before taking a picture of them on your phone, setting it as your Lock Screen. Your perfect little family.

Tendou

When he was making you homemade chocolate at his apartment for your fifth date, you took a spoon and dipped it into the melted chocolate when you thought he wasn’t looking. When he turned around and saw you with the spoon in your mouth, an obviously blissed look at how delicious it was, he knew he loved you. “Sorry” you say around the spoonin your mouth, your cheeks warming under his gaze. “You’re such a sneak, I’ll have to look out for that” he says as he boops your nose. You felt your heart race at the way his eyes lingered on you with a smirk. This man would be the death of you.

Bnha

Bakugou

You sing a little song to yourself as you break your chopsticks apart, dancing in your chair as you look down at your ramen. You were so happy to be in this moment with your favorite boy and your favorite food. He looks across the table at you, an amused smile on his face as he watches you and listens to your impromptu dumb song about how much you love ramen and love him, all the anger in his body leaving. You look up into his eyes and you feel your cheeks get warm “hmm?” You ask and expect his usually dumbass banter but your breath hitches when he says softly “I just love you is all” He‘ll never forget how lucky he is to be sharing perfect moments with you.

Midoriya

A date that’s not a date. You go to a thrift store with your friends but take his hand and lead him back to the clothing, taking turns choosing ugly accessories and coats for the other, spending the whole time lost in the moments with him. By the end you have many pictures together on your phone. You break off from the group, walking behind a few feet with him as you talk about your favorite heroes, you asked him questions about his notebook and he showed you the page he had written for you but forgot the small little drawing of a heart next your name at the top of the page. He noticed when the notebook was in your hand but couldn’t really tear it from you, that would be nuts. So he just hopes you don’t notice as you read his notes(you do) “this is amazing. I didn’t know you paid this much attention to me” his cheeks flush “y/n you have an amazing quirk! I love to watch you!” His face turns very red as you raise your eyebrows “you love to watch me?” You smirk and he starts to ramble “no! I mean I do. But like not in a weird way. I just like to see how your quirk develops. I’m not a stalker or anything” you reach out and take his hand with a chuckle “I like that you pay attention to me so don’t worry Zuku” you say and he lets out a deep breath. The rest of your group notices but just leaves you be, this was a long time going and to be honest bakugou started a bet to see how long it would take. He won when he bet it would be sooner rather than later. The first time he ever bet on Deku but only because he knew you were bolder.

Kaminari

Oh man. You were home early and he hadn’t heard you come in. You could hear he was on the phone with someone so you didn’t make any loud noises as you set your things down. “I’m gonna ask her tonight. Yeah I have the ring here in my hand, it’s so perfect. ... I have a reservation at the place we had our first date” he busts up laughing and you crack a smile when you realize he means the skate park near your old high school. “Yeah man the skatepark. But it’s actually a really nice restaurant now which I thought was so romantic. Shin, I can’t even begin to explain how sure I am about this. I can’t imagine a life without them in it.” You feel your heart skip and your eyes mist over for a moment before you suck in a breath and make your way over to the door, opening it quietly and then shouting “Hey im home early! Are you home?” You act, dramatically picking up and dropping your keys again and kicking your shoes. You hear a drawer shut and him say “I gotta go man she’s home thanks so much” before he comes out of the bedroom with a big grin on his lips “y/n/n! do you wanna go out to dinner tonight? There’s this new place I want us to try”

Aizawa

The way the breeze coming in through window ruffled his hair woke him up, it was just after two am and he must of forgot to close the window before you guys fell asleep. He got up to shut the window and he turned around, pausing for a second when he noticed you were looking at him. The moonlight framed his back and hit your face, your sleepy eyes taking in his shirtless frame as he walked back to bed. “You look like an angel” you whispered to him and he chuckles as he scooted under the covers, “you must still be dreaming if you think I’m the angel of this relationship” he mutters, trying to hide the way his heart skipped when you called him an angel.

Fatgum/ Taishiro

He comes home, his big suit in tatters and his body smaller, bruises already forming on his face and chest you can see from the torn fabric. “Oh babe I knew it was bad but I really wasn’t-“ you hold your hand to your lips to try and stop your tears as he walks over to you and wraps you in a hug and standing, carrying you with him to the bedroom “oh my angel don’t worry. I’m okay. All I need is a little bit of your home cooking and a lot of your kisses, then I’ll be right as rain” you shower with him, helping him out so he didnt have to use his sore limbs. Kissing him as much as he would want, showing him how much you love him. After you dress you make him multiple different foods, full meals so he could have as much as he wanted. He watched you cook from his spot at the kitchen table, his heart as full as his stomach will be later. The food you make for him always tastes the best, better than any food he could ever order, he feels your love through the act of service you give him every time you cook for him.

Present mic

The moment after a concert where you’re walking back to the car holding hands, smiles on your lips as your ears ringing from the level of music as you talk about your favorite songs that were performed. You start to shiver from the sweat on your body and he pulls you into a hug “I got something for you” he says quietly knowing your ears were already ringing as he kisses the top of your head “what is it?” You ask with a smile “close your eyes” he says and you lean up to kiss his lips softly before pulling back and keeping yo eyes closed. You feel something go over your head and you instinctively put your arms up through the sleeves knowing it was a hoodie “okay open your eyes” he says and you do, seeing him wearing a hoodie in front of you and looking down to see you had a matching one on “this is amazing Yama! I love you! Thank you!” You hug him tight and he laughs holding you close “anything for my girl”

Toshinori

Walking through the park in the morning, getting some coffee and people watching, hitting the farmers market on the way home he buys you some flowers while you’re distracted with the fruit. You buy an aloe plant in a pot painted with his face on it that looks like his hair for your office at the school and when you walk home you buy some donuts from the stand at the end, your arm in his as you have endless entertaining conversations.

Naruto

Kakashi

You gave him an excuse of a mission so you could go to the sand village for a few days. There’s a small bookstore there who was going to be releasing a limited edition Icha Icha book with a twist ending and you wanted to make sure you could get one. You were the first one in line and you waited all night long to be the first one in when it opened that day. You got the book and then swung by where you heard Jiraiya was, some bar by a hot spring between the sand and the leaf. “What are you doing here?” He says through a confident slur as you sit down next to him. you pull out the book and a pen and grin at him but when he doesn’t show any emotion you sigh, pulling out your wallet and handing it to him before he nods and takes the pen “I always have time for my fans”

When you get back to the apartment it’s after 2am the day of his birthday. You take the stairs two at a time, ditching your pack by the door as you enter silently. You hold the book in your hands, neatly wrapped in paper as you kick off your shoes and make your way to the bedroom. He’s sleeping peacefully in bed and you can’t wait to ruin it. You climb up in the bed and sit cross legged next to him, a smile on your lips and the book in your lap as you softly run your fingertips across his cheeks and his forehead and then down his nose before his eyes flutter open. “Hi” you whisper and he smiles as he stretches his arms out “welcome home baby. How was the mission?” He sits up and you look down at the book in your lap “the mission was successful” you say with a chuckle before looking back up into his eyes “what do you got there?” He asks and you hide it behind your back “oh nothing at all I don’t know what you’re ta-“ he talked you to the bed and stars to tickle your sides “taLKING ABOUT!” You start to giggle as his fingers hit all your ticklish spots “Kashi stop!” You beg through laughs and tears before he captures your lips with his and you relax into him, not noticing when his hand slides under your back and pulls the book from your grasp. He knows exactly what it is the moment he’s touched it. “You didn’t” he says as he pulls back and you just grin “open it” you say and he does, gently pulling the paper from the book. He holds it like he’s holding somethjng extra precious “there wasn’t a mission” he states as he looks down at the book in his hands, flipping through the new pages. “The only mission was making you happy” you whisper and he looks up into your eyes, his looking a little misty, “I love you so much, thank you” he says quietly, afraid his voice will crack. “I love you Kakashi. Happy Birthday”

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jonnysinsectcatalogue · 3 months

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Malachite Butterfly - Siproeta stelenes

A very dear friend of mine has surprised me with some lovely pictures from his Mexico vacation! Previously, this same friend has shared pictures from his trip to Australia, including a few insects: one an iconic resident of the continent and another familiar to us in North America (the Monarch Butterfly), so imagine my surprise to find more magnificent insects in my inbox. There's many new tropical Butterflies to introduce, and we're beginning the showcase with the Malachite, a remarkable green-winged Brush-Foot with a taste for sweet fruit. The dorsal side of the wing is black-colored with many lime-green patches. It's such a little beauty. By stationing small areas around its environment with fruits, it offers a chance to observe them up close and really soak in all the fine details of their body and wings.

In the wild I'd speculate that they might be skittish, but under these circumstances the fruit can even be picked up and they'll remain sipping. Perhaps watermelon and oranges are really that appealing from them; the fruits are practically sugar and water, so it's similar to puddling behavior. Moreover, they've been reported to "puddle" on bat droppings and carrion, so maybe wash your hands after you handle one. According to observations and similar photograph submissions from iNaturalist, this Butterfly might be mistaken for a fellow Brush-Foot -The Dido Longwing (Philaethria dido) - where their ranges overlap. To distinguish between the two, the Malachite's dorsal wings feature more black and less green. Keep this in mind as from the underside, they both appear similar at a passing glance with large green-colored scales divided by borders of white and brown. The Malachite's body also has brown lines on it, while the Longwing has black lines.

While this Butterfly may not be red, I'm wishing a lovely and Happy Valentine's Day. I guess the malachite-green is meant as a complementary color of red this year? Maybe the Scarlet Malachite Beetle can convince you.

Pictures were taken on February 11, 2024 in Mexico with a Samsung Galaxy S23 Ultra. On Friday, another tropical specie of golden magnificence!

#jonny’s insect catalogue #insect #butterfly #malachite butterfly #brush footed butterfly #lepidoptera #mexico #february2024 #2024 #nature #entomology #valentine's day #invertebrates

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river-bottom-nightmare · 4 years

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headcanon that Dick is part veela.

Haly’s Circus traveled all around the world, picking strays and turning them into family along the way. One cold, dreary day in Europe, a couple showed up at the circus tent. Bedraggled, exhausted, and clutching each others hands, they were still the most beautiful people Haly had ever seen. Of course, he couldn’t very well leave them like that, so he invited them to stay, just for the night.

One night was all it took for them to charm their way into the heart of the circus. The other members could tell there was something off, something not quite human about them. It was in the way John, or so he said his name was, stayed in the air a little longer than normal when flipping from a trapeze. It was in the way Mary, or so she said her name was, tumbled down a silk before catching her foot in a lock a little to gracefully. It was in the way their skin seemed to shimmer under the limelight and the way their voices cut through the gloom of the night brighter than sunbeams when they laughed and the way they clutched at each other, fingers tangling and rarely letting go, as if they were being hunted. But they were also good and kind. John, or so he said his name was, joked around with the rest of the crew, his smile instantly putting them at ease. Mary, or so she said her name was, gave hugs warmer than the campfire and gave kisses on cheeks lighter than a butterfly. The two of them were part of the crew by morning.

A couple years later, when the crew was in northern India, Mary announced she was pregnant, with glowing cheeks and a delicate hand on her stomach. John was so shocked, he choked on his stew and upended the water pitcher. Then he ran over the Mary, a little faster than what passed for normal, and lifted her up in the air with an easy that not even Clayton the strongman could manage, and peppered her face with kisses. The rest of the crew turned a blind eye, as they always did, and congratulated the happy couple. After all, by now, they were family.

The troop took a small rest in a small village in Punjab when Mary was close to delivery. She spent her days laughing with the children as the women of the village taught the people in the circus to dance. A few weeks later, Richard John Grayson was born, or so they said his name was, and his gorgeous face became instantly beloved by the entire crew. But no one could deny that when just talking to little Dick, when they believed they were out of earshot, John and Mary lovingly called Dick by another name, one that seemed a little to quick and a little to ethereal to be able to pronounce. Dick spent his first couple of years in that small town in Punjab, doing flips and tricks from the moment he could stand. Ionana the Contortionist learned new skills and taught them to the village children, Fedir the Juggler learned about fifty new dishes to try, Bao the Swordsmaster grew so talented with her blade, not a single person could match her, and Haly added Punjabi to his ever growing list of languages. And when Dick turned four, the circus packed up and left the town in the dust, leaving nothing but memories behind.

After the pregnancy, John and Mary seemed to dull a bit. Not in terms of enthusiasm and personality, no. They were still the cheerful, loving couple they had always been. But the crew noticed how their flips became a little messier, their skin glowed a little less, their voices cracked and became a little more human. The inhuman talent they had on the trapeze was gone, replaced by a normal brand of extraordinary. It seemed that most every drop of whatever was in their blood that made them so unique had been transferred over to Dick. He was instantly a natural at performing. Perhaps a little too good. Not a single circus member missed the way the audience’s eyes drew to him, almost as if they couldn’t help themselves. They never missed the way, no matter how far up Dick seemed to fall from, he never got hurt. They never missed the way the animals came to him unprompted, the way he could almost talk to them (Zitka the elephant in particular). They never missed the way his lilting voice and golden laugh to the crowd right before his performance sent a wave of life and light rushing through everyone there. They never missed the sheer power that sparked in his eyes every time he leapt off the platform, and they never missed the way he floated in the air, more at home up there than he ever was at home. They never missed his beauty, the way his perfect little face and big doe eyes had people scrambling to give him anything he wanted. (They also never missed the way he abused this ruthlessly, gaining sweets and chocolate from the audience with one pout.) And this led them to believe that the Graysons were unstoppable. But before they knew it, John and Mary, if those even were their real names, were dead on the ground, and Dick had been whisked away, and just like that town in Punjab that raised him, left nothing but memories behind.

Now, the problem was that this was how Dick had been all his life. The light inside him, the way the air moved almost lifelike around him, this had all been normal to him. He never suspected he was anything less than human.

Bruce had his suspicions. No human. could quadruple flip into a roundhouse kick strong enough to take out a meta. No human could balance seamlessly on a rope the size of a string while being blasted with cold air at that speed. No human could catch a socialite’s eye at a party and convince them to reveal every one of their safely-guarded secrets with only a few flutters of the eyes and well chosen words. Yet all of these things came as naturally to Dick as breathing.

So Bruce had his suspicions, of course he did. He kept track of every time Dick tried to teach another Robin a move during training that was physically impossible for everyone except him. He kept track of the way Dick could talk Jason down from an explosive rage the way no one else could. He kept track of the way Dick could bring a smile out of Tim on his worst days, the shaky quirk of the lips a pale imitation of Dick’s sun gold grin, but there. He kept track of the way Dick could communicate with Cass nonverbally, seemingly having entire complex conversations with only a few movements and gestures. He kept track of the way Dick could almost read Damian’s mind, know exactly what the boy needed at any given time, despite the way his mind changed fast enough to give you whiplash. (He didn’t think to notice that Dick was the only person who could get him to stop, take a break, to rest.)

Bruce also kept track of the way pure fear soaked into anyone surrounding him the minute anger flared in Dick’s eyes. He kept track of Dick’s temper, more explosive than his and Jason’s combined. He kept track of the graceful ruthlessness telegraphed in every move of Dick’s body, keeping it in check through years of training. He kept track of the way Dick claimed every single person in the family for himself, along with a couple of the Titans and other friends, and the way everyone seemed to know innately know about his possessiveness. He kept track of the way Dick could easily seduce anyone he put his mind to, the way Dick became unnaturally beautiful out of the corner of his eye.

Bruce never brought this up to Dick. He let him carry on as always, believing him oblivious to his touch of something a little more than humanity. And for the most part, Dick didn’t know. He laughed with chuckle of pure light and sang with a voice that carried the depths of the oceans and danced with a grace more flowing than air and loved with a burning flame fiercer than a wildfire.

But every so often, Dick looked at a couple old pictures he had of his parents, salvaged from the circus. On the back, it was scribbled John and Mary Grayson, Haly’s Circus, along with a couple small anecdotes of what was happening in the photograph. But as Dick held the picture that never seemed to fade and touched their faces with fingertips that either seemed to brush right over things or press with a force stronger than Superman’s, a frown tugged at his face as he recalled his parent’s loving words, a little too light and a little too graceful to come from a human throat. He remembered them calling him something, something other than Dick, something that fit the tips of his soul the way the name Richard never seemed to.

John and Mary Grayson. But were those really their names?

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romiesays · 2 years

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Watercolors on Snow

Late one evening, I wondered whether watercolor, as a medium, would work to draw on the surface of snow. The next morning, I tried it out. The snow was dry and powdery.

I drew this dragon directly onto the snow, using the snow itself as the water. It was flaky, like applying gold leaf, and the pressure it took to get the colored ice crystals off the brush sank through the top crust, indenting in.

Tamping the snow down with a handprint first, and dipping the brush into warm water, produced this result. The firebird looks molten because the warmth of the water melted the snow. It was only possible to dab on a bit of color at a time before dipping back into the warm water; the liquid froze as it came in contact with the snow surface.

Painting directly onto slick ice was too fluid to allow much control of the color; it all blended into a mush. I was impressed by how rich the pigment looked, however; I think the glass-like quality of the ice allowed light to bounce through it from the side, like a jewel in a floated (rather than flush) setting, making it much brighter than if I’d painted directly on the dark planks of the deck, even though the ice surface looked black due to its transparency.

As a sort of a joke, I drew a face on a snow angel, but I think detailed realism would be difficult to achieve.

I had better luck illuminating boot prints - tamped down, still snowy, with internal boundaries and interesting shadow valleys. These were my most successful pieces, I think, although very constrained/limited in what was formally possible.

I experimented with treading over the painted prints to make criss-crossing patterns and see how much the watercolor “bled” or transferred.

It was my experience that the color remained relatively fixed, even as I changed how the topography of the snow was extruded (by application of my foot).

As I was experimenting, the sun had melted and refrozen one of the ice patches into a different texture, more like grains of sea salt, so I tried again to see whether this surface would be a good balance between “fluid” and “crumbly.”

I’m fairly happy with this fox in the snow, although I don’t know whether anybody would be able to identify it as non-abstract without my saying the title. It has some of the dimensionality of cave paintings (which is a lot of why I keep coming back to this orange-red color).

While I was painting on the deck, my assistants took the initiative to throw a lot of snow onto a wall to make a canvas. Since we were in a garden, we collaborated on some flowers and butterflies.

Although my assistant preferred a thick, non-synthetic calligraphy brush (able to pick up more water, responsible for that thick green line across the bottom of the “butterfly” image), I found the paint much easier to control if I used a cheap synthetic brush (which did not freeze).

As we worked on the wall, some of the snow where we were painting flaked off, and left confetti-like spots of color on the snow at our feet. It looked something like sprinkles on a cupcake, but was not possible to photograph accurately using the equipment I had on hand. (Since it had fallen somewhat into the snowbank, ideally I would have lit it from directly overhead with an LED lamp, to avoid applying heat.)

My other assistant threw a very hard-packed snowball at me, which I signed.

#snow #watercolor #art #wall painting #fox in the snow #snowday

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sombreboy · 4 years

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Mused obsession (2)

Written by @sombreboy as Jungkook & @chimoona as Jimin Banner by @carly-bean-blog

[ masterlist ]

⇢Explicit (18+) ⇢Pairing: Jungkook & Jimin ⇢Genre: yandere, smut, mxm ⇢Word count: 5.4k ⇢Ch.warnings: Alcohol consumption, profanity, jealous jk, so much sexual tension, bending the overwatch rules for the sake of the story don’t come at me lmao, also this is the last chapter without any filth so buckle up honey

Industry famous Jeon Jungkook of GJK photography takes an interest in a model and up-and-coming fashion designer, Park Jimin. After an opportunity to study the man behind his trusty lens, he thinks he may have just found his new muse.

Jimin’s mind kept wandering to the young artist even when he was bustling backstage. He delegates tasks to a couple crew members and walks over to a standing mirror to check his appearance. He’s ethereal, dressed in a soft white shirt, wrapping high around his neck and tied with a loose bow. On top of that is a fitted jacket with large black lapels, covered entirely in dark gold accents. He wanted to be seen, and this would definitely do the trick. His guests haven’t even arrived and he’s already getting looks from the backstage crew and hired models. He adjusts his tight pants to hug comfortably, drawing just the right amount of attention to his toned legs and small waist.

“Park, it’s time.” His stage manager approaches with a waitlist in-hand. “Follow me to the entryway. It’s time to greet our guests.”

Guests trail in one by one, or in groups, filling up the venue. However, Jungkook is still on his way, in no rush. He hates to be in the middle of a cramped crowd. Although he knows he would most likely be allowed to pass through the line, he prefers to simply arrive a little later than everybody else. It gives him a grand entrance, in some type of way — always drawing the eyes of people, shocked that he actually would show up. He knows the game.

“We’ve arrived, Jeon.” The chauffeur announces as they park in front of the building. Jungkook’s slick black car is turning the heads of those curious to see who would show up late. With his type of car, surely it’s somebody of importance. Jungkook wonders if Jimin is anxious to see him, or maybe even a tad bit worried about whether he would show up or not.

Inside, Jimin floats from person to person as they arrive, thanking them for coming and receiving compliments in return. He was right about his choice in clothing as he began to attract a lot of attention, especially from his agency mate Taehyung.

Tae is best known for his work in accessory modelling, using his smooth hands, tapered wrists and long neck to his advantage. His physical assets are a prized commodity when displaying very luxe pieces of jewellery. His ads often display on Cartier and Rolex storefronts, in case you didn’t know. Like he’d ever let you forget. Being managed by the same company often meant Tae got the chance to work alongside Jimin, always taking the opportunity to shamelessly flirt.

“You should have asked me to model for you, Jimin.” He places his hand on the small of Jimin’s back and toys with the sequins there. He leans close to Jimin’s ear and breathes gently, tickling his cuff—“You know I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Jimin clears his throat, trying to maintain his composure. “I’ll keep that in mind, Tae. Thank you for offering.” Taehyung cracks a sly smile and begins to walk away, turning to look over his shoulder, making sure Jimin watches. “Congratulations on the collection, by the way. Can’t wait to see how Jeon pulled off the promo shots.”

Jimin smiles back and nods as Tae leaves to greet their manager, then releases a sigh and looks around the room for Jungkook, wondering if he’d ever show up.

Jungkook steps out of the car as his chauffeur holds the door open, then heads towards the venue’s front door and is immediately allowed to pass by the small queue waiting to enter. Perks of being a celebrity, supposedly. As expected, he’s greeted with smiles, almost flocked by other celebrities trying to make a connection — mostly for business, others for personal reasons. He doesn’t smile, however. He simply excuses himself as he moves further, eyes searching for the one blonde he came for in the first place. Unsuccessful in his mission, he opts for alcohol, heading towards the bar area to lean against the counter. He orders a large pint of beer, never truly understanding those able to drink whiskey. As he chugs down a few gulps, his eyes finally spot the man he was looking for. Only question is... who’s that whispering in his ear?

Jungkook’s eyes spark in recognition when the mystery man pulls away to leave. Ah, Kim Taehyung. Another model that has been up his ass for quite a while to have his photo taken. Well, he just blew his chance on that one... The younger remains at his spot, halfway done with his drink and eyes fixated on the blonde. He’s fascinated by his effortless beauty, simply socializing with others. He quickly remembers he brought a small camera, just as high quality as his larger ones, but much more subtle for places like this. He places the beer back on the counter before aiming his camera at Jimin, snapping a few secret shots.

Absolutely angelic.

Jimin taps his foot to the music, leaning against the bar at the back of the room while he waits for his cocktail to arrive. He has no shame in ordering a cosmopolitan, loving the blushed pink color and sweet taste. He was craving something sweet after his photo shoot yesterday—banana milk still ripe on his tongue. He finds himself wondering if he should order something for Jungkook, pleading to make the impression of a courteous host, but decides he’d rather wait to see the man first. Drink in hand, he sways his hips to the music, combing through the crowd, shaking hands and kissing other fellow agency members on the cheek as he brushes past them. Now on his second cosmo, he’s feeling loose and a little impatient. His lips curl delicately around the rim of the glass to sip down the last of the pink liquid. He thumbs a stray droplet from his bottom lip and decides it’s time to head backstage and check in.

Jungkook keeps his eyes fixed on the elder the entire time, enjoying the opportunity to observe how Jimin acts when he isn’t aware of the younger's eyes. A cosmopolitan, huh? Jimin would order such a drink. Kook wants to taste for himself — having never tried one before. He normally goes for beer, which he finishes off and sets down on the counter with a clonk. He’s still watching Jimin, the social butterfly that he is. A beautiful, gorgeous butterfly...the way his plush lips curl around the rim of the glass — mesmerizing. What’s even more devastating is the subtle swipe of his thumb across his lower lip.

“Park Jimin, you are dangerous...” Jungkook mutters to himself as his cautious eyes follow the man. He glances down at his watch, knowing it was almost showtime. He decides to announce his presence beforehand, sauntering over, keeping his gaze on Jimin until he’s next to him. He gives his arm a light nudge with his own.

“Hey.”

It takes Jimin a couple seconds to register that the nudge was coming from Jungkook, then stops dead in his tracks by the man’s dark suit and styled hair. He can smell a woodsy musk coming from him, enchanting his senses. Jimin is so impressed by how well Jungkook has cleaned up that he can barely take his eyes off him.

“Hey, you,” Jimin smiles and wraps him in a friendly hug—perhaps a little too friendly given his liquid courage. “You look great,” he gushes and gives the man a light kiss on the cheek like he did with his friends — just a little longer than the rest. “Decided to finally show up, huh? Fashionably late—I get it.” The model teases, enjoying how wide Jungkook’s eyes get when he doesn’t treat him like a big-shot. “Let’s get you settled in, Jeon.” Jimin loops his arm into the younger’s and leads him to the bar to buy a new round of cosmos. “The show is about to begin. I saved you a seat at the front.”

Jungkook is no stranger to friendly kisses on the cheek from acquaintances, but this was the first time when coming from another man — that it made a shiver run down his spine. Jimin’s lips are soft, plushy, and feel like a kiss from an angel itself. It is, unfortunately, addicting . A part of him can’t help but wonder how they’d feel on his own lips... Jungkook shrugs off his continuous thoughts; there are more important things to think about than kissing the man holding him close... right? He lets the smaller man guide him towards the bar, eyes immediately falling on the sweet drink and licking his lips at the sight. It looks delicious, so he decides to get one as well, then picks it up and tilts his head back, tasting it with a larger gulp than one normally would . T he sweetness coats his tongue and leaves a small layer of liquid on his lower lip.

“I’m technically not late...the show hasn't started yet.” He smiles, the mix of beer and cosmo slowly hitting his system. Kook glances up at Jimin. “Shall we go, then?”

Arm in arm, Jimin guides Jungkook towards the runway. He holds him close to navigate through the dense crowd. Heads turn as the two of them enter the room, some trying their best to network with the photographer as he passes by. “You’re getting more attention than me,” Jimin comments over the sound of bustling gossip. “If I was smart I would have offered to dress you in a suit from my collection. You’d fit right in with the models.”

“That would have been a smart choice,” Jungkook jokes, eyes continuously falling back to where Jimin holds his bicep close, and where their bodies pressed together. He barely notices the passing words of others and they completely go over his head. His focus is solely on Jimin’s sweet tone, trying to keep his eyes up to look around. He isn’t usually comfortable in crowded areas, so he’s grateful to the model for keeping him grounded. “Maybe I would’ve accepted.”

“Then it’s settled,” Jimin says with a squeeze to his arm, noting how the tall handsome man melts into his touch. “And it’s not going to be just any suit, obviously. It has to be custom .” He leads Jungkook close to the stage and takes a seat next to him, keeping his body close for comfort in the hectic bustle of celebrities. “Think of it as a tip for your hard work these past few days,” he adds.

...Or an excuse to run his hands over more of the photographer’s toned body as he takes measurements. Either way, it would give him another opportunity to have the man alone.

“I wouldn’t expect anything but custom,” Jungkook scrunches his nose as he smiles, joking on his own expense. “That, or I wouldn’t be Jeon Jungkook.” He slumps down on the chair as Jimin follows to take a seat next to him. Their sides are still pressed together tightly — not that the younger has anything against it. Rather the opposite. He enjoys the close proximity. His gaze continously steals glances at the elders flawless profile. He knew he was admiring the man already, but up close...it’s next level. Jungkook’s eyes travel down the soft slope of Jimin’s nose until they land on the plush, tinted lips that are blessed with a natural pout. ...it should be illegal.

Jimin may not have noticed Jungkook’s covert photos earlier, but he’s not blind to the man’s roaming stare as it fixates on every facet of his face. Jimin sneaks a few glances for himself, or rather, unabashedly eye-fucks him. Everything about the guy is alluring—the long dark hair, the sharp jawline and slightly exposed chest under his low-cut black shirt. Jimin almost salivates at the thought of claiming his mouth in front of all these strangers. It must be the third cosmo in his system. He’s feeling loose and uninhibited, even more now that he knows his interests aren’t misplaced. If Jungkook keeps staring, Jimin might have to fast-track that personal fitting.

The lights dim to indicate that the show was about to begin.

“Excuse me,” Jimin leans close to whisper, purposefully pressing his glossy pout against Jungkook’s ear, anxious to see how it affects him, “I’ve got a speech to give.” He then stands and gracefully floats to stage to find his footing in front of the microphone.

Jungkook forces himself to tightly swallow down the groan threatening to escape his lips when he feels Jimin’s breath fan over his ear. The scent of alcohol mixed with the elders sweet perfume is intoxicating. One turn of his head and his lips could’ve been on Jimin’s. The thought was awfully tempting, but before he was able to react in any way, the blonde withdrew himself to stride towards the stage. Jimin’s ring-clad fingers delicately wrap around the microphone stand, and the younger straightens his posture — gaze still fixed on the gorgeous angel before him. He reaches down his pocket, fingers gripping around his camera. He really wants to capture the moment.

“I thank each and every one of you for attending, what I hope to be, the very beginning of a successful launch.”

Cameras flash from the crowd—a few media sources, fashion bloggers and excited industry mates document the moment. Jimin gulps down a small wave of nerves and continues on. He’s a professional. He can do this.

“My team and I are excited to share a first look at the ‘Be Your Light’ collection, created to evoke confidence and empower those who wear it to show their true selves.” He clasps his hands together in thanks and gives a small bow to the crowd. “Enjoy the show and please look forward to more in the coming weeks...” He looks over to Jungkook, as if speaking directly to the man as he delivers his finishing statement — “...there’s much more yet to come.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to lift his own camera along with everybody else, snapping a few closeup shots of this big moment. It’s huge, and Kook can’t help but smile with pride. He’s gonna go so far, especially with his assistance. As soon as their eyes meet, Jungkook lowers his camera to truly see Jimin as he finishes on stage. His heart flutters — excitement evident as he flashes the gorgeous angel a toothy grin followed with a nod of approval. There surely is much more to come. And, hopefully, more projects together.

Jimin can’t wipe the smile from his face. The applause of the room carries on as he walks back to his seat. But barely there, he’s tugged to the side by a familiar pair of smooth hands.

“Loved the speech,” Taehyung slurs, urging the model to sit beside him instead. The scent of dark rum is heavy on his breath. He was never very good at staying composed during events like this. Deep bass thunders from the rafters as the first model hits the runway.

“Thanks Tae, but I’ve got to—“ Jimin is silenced by the man as he grips his face and tries to kiss him roughly, missing by an inch.

“You’re such a TEASE tonight,” Tae snarls. “Come home with me.”

His proposition is blunt as per usual. Jimin politely shakes his head and smiles as if nothing happened, trying to reduce the amount of attention they’re already drawing. To his relief, their manager intervenes and coaxes Tae to sit back in his seat, allowing Jimin enough time to slip back to his rightful spot beside Jungkook.

Jungkook saw everything. Watching Taehyung attempt to kiss Jimin was probably one of the most frustrating feelings he had ever felt. That’s when he knew he didn’t want anybody else to have a chance with the blonde. It also meant...Jungkook really has an interest in the man. It’s obvious, but he wouldn’t acknowledge it — not until he saw Jimin almost kiss somebody who wasn’t him. The very moment Jimin sat down next to him, his tongue continuously prodded the inside of his cheek in annoyance. One arm quickly wraps around the elders shoulders, pulling him closer to talk to through the loud music. “What the hell was that?”

“Nothing,” Jimin mumbles, crossing his legs. He and Tae have unfinished business but his fashion show is far from the appropriate venue to address it. In the past, Tae’s everlasting propositions would often bring him to his knees and he knew it well. Behind the curtain of a runway, to the filthy floor of a club bathroom. But that was the past. Jungkook probably doesn’t need to know that part, not when he’s already so annoyed. “He just had too much to drink,” Jimin clarifies, “it’s fine.”

Jungkook doesn’t even attempt to hide the way he scrunches his nose in annoyance. Maybe it’s due to the alcohol, but he presses Jimin closer to himself and fans his breath over the elders ear as he speaks. “You’re not required to stay any longer, right? You did your speech...”

Jimin leans his small body tight to Jungkook, needing to be closer as well, blood warming to his dominant aura. He still feels the white hot stares of neighbouring attendees after the little stunt Taehyung pulled. His stage manager is more than capable of handling the rest of the show, he’s sure of that. If he wants the attention back on the garments and the rest of the show to be a success, it’s best he slips out.

He keeps his voice low enough for only Jungkook to hear — “Get me out of here.”

The words roll off Jimin’s lips, and they’re more than enough for Jungkook to spring into action. A smirk curls on his lips as he stands up, grabbing the elders hand shamelessly.

“Let’s go, then.”

He tugs the blonde along, scuffing through the crowd. On the way out, his eyes meet Taehyung’s sharp gaze as it flickers between the two men hand in hand. Jungkook flashes him a shit eating grin, knowing Tae would simply have nothing to argue about, especially if he ever wants a slight chance to work with the photographer in the future.

He could forget about it, Kook muses to himself.

He leads Jimin to his car, already on cue to leave at Jungkook's say so. He holds the back door open for his company, letting him get seated before joining inside.

Jimin settles in close as the driver begins to take them away. He’s not sure where they’re going and doesn’t care to ask, content as long as it’s far from prying eyes. He slips his hand under Jungkook’s as he misses the feeling of skin on skin, then looks up at the younger with a small smile on his pouty lips. “Thank you,” he says, mentally musing over the many ways he’d like to show him his gratitude. The way Jungkook took command of that situation wrecks Jimin, to say the least. He can’t blink away the image of Jungkook’s jaw tightening, nose scrunching, or how hot his breath felt like fire against his neck as he asked about Taehyung.

Jungkook shrugs lightly, a small smile on his lips at the simple words of gratitude. It’s cute, the way Jimin suddenly seems to shrink beside him when they’re alone. Apparently an audience makes him cocky, but the one-on-one moments together make him look almost... innocent . The duality is exactly why Jungkook feels such a strong pull towards him. The car slowly pulls through a large gated area, turning into a driveway next to a grand mansion. Kook doesn’t wait for the chauffeur to open the door and simply does so himself without a word, waiting for the elder to follow. He hasn’t bothered asking Jimin if he wants to go with him to his home. Then again, Jungkook often does whatever he pleases.

Jimin follows him obediently, noting that perhaps chivalry isn’t dead. He hasn’t had a man open a door for him unless he was paid or obligated to do so. He nods in thanks and marvels at the house he’s about to step into. Just from the outside, it’s beautiful and meticulously landscaped.

“Is this all yours?” Jimin asks, mouth slightly parted in awe. He’s considered himself to be well off for his age, but the younger man takes it to the next level.

Jungkook cranes his neck to observe his house, giving a light nod before he strolls towards the grand front door, fumbling in his pockets to fish out the keys. “All mine.” His lips twitch in a smile, glancing over the shoulder at the blonde. Kook remembers buying his house — the excitement back then was comparable to that of a child on christmas. However, with time, material things grew worthless. In a sense, he’s used to it all, but seeing Jimin’s admiration sparks a pride — an appreciation for his own wealth, perhaps. “Wanna come inside?” he asks cheekily, as if that wasn’t already the plan.

Jimin nods again and follows him in. It isn’t normal by any stretch to have as much self-built notoriety and materialistic gain before the age of 30... or any age, really. It makes him even more curious to know the young photographer. It’s not the fame or fortune that draws him in; it’s the reminder that Jeon Jungkook, GJK-branded icon, photographer to the stars, is also the milk-sipping boy with manners and a childlike glimmer in his eye. What a conundrum, Jimin thinks. His eyes flick to Jungkook’s ass as he walks through the grand doors, noting for the first time just how toned it is. A very...alluring conundrum.

Tonight may be the night he discovers even more about the semi-mysterious younger man. He’s almost jittery with anticipation, wondering what he has in store for their evening together.

The doors automatically close behind them — the loud click of the lock echoes in the hallway as Jungkook slowly saunters towards the open space of the living room, gesturing towards the couch to offer Jimin a seat. Kook paces through the room to reach the open kitchen, stepping behind the only thing separating the two rooms — a large marbled counter, which frames the space deemed a kitchen. He opens the fridge and scans his various beverages with a hum.

Yes, he has a fridge solemnly dedicated to drinks...

“Want something to drink? I have alcohol, soda, energy drinks...even bananamilk. You liked that, right?” Kook’s oddball mind almost craves to mix alcohol with his favorite sweet drink. It could be the best of both worlds, as a kids show once told him.

Already three cosmos into the night, Jimin decides to stray from the sweet side of the flavor spectrum, at least until he’s a little more drunk.

“I did like the banana milk...” he’s almost tempted to take him up on the offer just knowing how pleased Jungkook would be by the decision, but no, he needs something that will make him a little more... uninhibited . He taps his fingers against his chin in thought, taking a seat on the big couch. “I’ll take a glass of wine. Red, if you have it.”

Jungkook hums as he crouches to the bottom of the fridge. His stack of unopened wine bottles is finally coming to use as he doesn’t normally drink wine too often himself. He supposes he can indulge in some as well. “Does the brand matter?” Kook asks, but not really waiting for an answer before he picks one that he remembers getting as a gift from... well , he doesn’t remember. All he knows is it’s of decent quality. Pricey, to say the least. The bottles clonk together as he grabs the one he thinks fits Jimin best, forgetting about his craving for the milk as he returns to the couch with the large bottle and two glasses in hand. “If you want anything specific I can always have it delivered.” He murmurs as he places the glasses down and pulls up his sleeves to open the bottle with a pop. Pop is also an accurate description of what the veins in his hands did as he works the cork out of the bottle neck.

Jimin cannot help the gravitational pull he has towards hands, especially those that do hard work and reflect the fruits of their labor. When Jungkook raises his sleeves, it’s the first time Jimin gets a look at the tattoos that wrap around one arm and down his long fingers. He watches as Jungkook uncorks the bottle and swipes his tongue across his lips to wet them. “Thanks for the offer,” he says quietly, too engrossed in the task at hand. “I’m sure we have everything we need right here.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows tightly draw together as he focuses on pouring the drink into each glass, having no care for the etiquette of ‘filling halfway.’ No, Jungkook fills the glasses until the transparent material is completely red, seeing no reason in being stingy with the drink. When satisfied, he places the bottle on the table and sits down to hand Jimin his overfilled glass while treating himself to the same. He wastes no time in taking a large gulp as he’s not the kind to ‘savor the taste.’

Jimin watched the process and throughout and thought how cute it was that he didn't know how to pour wine. It was just another moment Jimin savoured as unexpected yet endearing. He follows Jungkook’s lead and greedily gulps down a mouthful of the dry merlot. He can tell it’s expensive because it drinks like water and bursts with fruity flavour. He takes another gulp and already feels his alcohol levels rise.

“What do you do around here for fun?” Jimin asks, looking around the room.

Jungkook’s eyes twinkle with excitement at the question, quickly pointing towards the large TV hanging on the wall. “I like video games…” He takes another gulp of his wine, already having downed most of it. He feels the alcohol loosening him up a bit with cheeks a hue of red, puffing up with a smile. “Do you play?”

Jimin swivels to look at the TV and surveys the gaming setup. There’s no doubt the photographer likes to indulge his interests given he owns every console imaginable. He stands with his wine, drinking it steadily as he walks over to the selection of games.

“I’ve played Overwatch before,” he notes, plucking the game and walking it back to Jungkook. “But I won’t go easy on you, Jeon.” He smirks, holding eye contact. He wraps his full lips around the rim of the glass to polish off the rest of his wine, even braver than he was a second ago. “In fact, let’s make this interesting.” His confidence is back in full swing. “Weaker player has to do whatever the other wants, no questions asked.”

Jungkook’s fingers curl around the gamecase — the small pull on his lips quickly turn into a playful smirk at the elders' words. “You won’t go easy on me ?” His smirk morphs, surprised by Jimin’s challenge. He quickly closes his mouth, processing his words as the alcohol amplifies his curiosity about all the possible outcomes of when he wins. Because, obviously, there’s no way Jimin could beat him in overwatch. “Oh... really? ” Jungkook purrs as he stands up, stepping closer to the blonde until their chests merely graze together. His warm breath fans Jimin’s face as he waves the game in the air. “Deal...no questions asked.”

Jungkook quirks an eyebrow and wastes no time in turning the game on, then returns to the couch with two controllers and hands one to Jimin. He’s confident, however, a part of him wonders what Jimin would come up with if he did win…

“D-deal,” Jimin repeats softly, blushing. He grips the controller to focus on something tangible. His heart thunders in his chest as Jungkook’s warm breath still lingers on his flesh. “Before we get started,” he slightly slurs and waves his empty glass in the air, feeling loose. “...Refill time?” Overwatch isn’t necessarily the model’s forte but perhaps he can get the upper hand if Jungkook is just a little more inebriated. Not that he’s trying to take advantage…or maybe he is. The opportunity to do whatever he wants with the man, no questions asked? He doesn’t even know where he would start. He almost feels lightheaded by the thought of guiding Jungkook’s tattooed hand to wrap around his throat, punishing him for being indecisive.

Jungkook’s eyes land on the empty glass in Jimin’s hand. …He wants more? One bottle down, and even the younger man can feel that he’s leaning way past tipsy. But , he thinks, what the hell . It’s a night of celebration, after all. Besides, he may not get another chance like this, alone with the gorgeous blonde. There’s no use in wasting it.

“Okay.” He stands up once more to grab another bottle, returning to fill the glasses up to the brim. There isn’t a single bone in Jungkook that can be described as stingy. He’s very generous. “Don’t blame the wine if you lose though,” he slurs out the words and slumps down on the couch. His fingers tightly grip the controller with one hand as he tilts his head back to chug more of his beverage ; throat muscles flexing as he does so.

Who is he kidding? Jimin has never played the game before. Knocking back a large gulp of his drink, he sets the glass aside to focus. It’s already starting; Jungkook eagerly bounces in his seat to kick his ass. Jimin has already accepted defeat—his drunken mind circling the various shenanigans a man like Jungkook could be interested in. He combs a hand through his styled hair and ruffles it, relaxing into the couch.

“Let’s get it,” he smiles, biting down on his lip.

Jungkook’s nose scrunches up in a snort at Jimin’s words, repeating them himself in a breathy laugh — “Let’s get it!”

After not long at all , t he younger isn’t surprised to see that Jimin has no fucking idea what he’s doing. His cocky attitude was simply for show. Kook barely has to try, half-focused on glancing over at the blonde’s reactions and attempts to figure out the game. A small crease forms between Jimin’s eyebrows, so endearing. The pout on his rosey lips is... alluring . With the bet in mind, Jungkook’s mind wanders…

As the game continues on, it becomes very apparent that the blonde is going to lose his own bet. He keeps running into walls and firing at trees. With a frustrated sigh, he releases the controller and lets it flop pathetically in his lap. “The tree moved, I swear!” To think, he did it to himself. What a fool —he should have chosen something more his speed like Katamari Damacy. He scrambles to pick the controller back up, steadfast in upholding his air of perfection, but it’s too late. …it's time for his punishment.

Jungkook’s toothy smile grows, moreso at the reactions he draws out of the man next to him rather than the actual victory of the game.

“What a dumb tree, huh?” He snickers, putting the controller on the table before turning his whole body towards Jimin, swirling the wine glass in hand. Jungkook rests one arm behind Jimin and leans in real close. “Now, who lost the bet?” He clearly knows, but he really craves hearing it. Call it an ego boost, but hearing the blonde accept his loss in a flustered manner is an incredibly amusing sight.

Swallowing his pride, perhaps a little too easily, Jimin concedes with a light pink blush adorning his cheeks.

“You won, Jeon.” He finishes off the rest of his wine glass and enjoys the floaty euphoric feeling of being out of control but still very present. “Fair and square,” he breathes, inching forward, resting his hands in his lap obediently. “You hold all the power. What would you like me to do?”

‘You hold all the power.’ The words made a shiver run down Jungkook’s spine. It could be innocent, but with the tension between them, that was highly unlikely.

Jungkook’s mind wanders further as his senses amplify and unhinge by the amount of alcohol running through his system. He places his wine glass on the table, now daring to settle his free hand on Jimin’s thigh to give it a soft squeeze. His eyes never waver from the blonde as he tries to draw more reactions from him.

“No questions asked...right?”

#fic: mused obsession #yandere jungkook #jungkook x jimin #jikook #yandere bts #bts mxm #chimoona #sombreboy #boymeetsmxm #jikook fic

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